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THE 
BIOGRAPHY 


THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A 
PRAIRIE  GIRL  >  ♦  ♦  ♦  > 

♦    ♦    ♦     BY  ELEANOE  GATES 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  CENTUEY  CO. 
NEW  YORK    ^>s*>c*'«*>5»>s»    MCMII 


1U 

A- 


Copyright,  1902,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Published  October,  1902 


GENERAL 


THE  DEVlNNE  PRESS. 


TO 


MRS.  PHCEBE  A.  HEAEST 


101599 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Coming  of  the  Stork 3 

II  A  Frontier  Christening 11 

III  "Little  Boy  Blue" 30 

IV  A  Pariah  op  the  Prairies 48 

V  The  Misfit  Scholar      64 

VI  The  Story  of  a  Planting 87 

vii  Twice  in  Jeopardy 103 

VIII  A  Harvest  Wedding 118 

IX  The  Price  of  Convalescence    ....  134 

X  "Badgy" 152 

XI  A  Trade  and  a  Trick 170 

xn  The  Professor's  "Find" 187 

xni  A  Race  and  a  Rescue 206 

XIV  Hard  Times 224 

XV  The  Fate  of  a  Crowing  Hen   ....  242 

XVI  The  Reservation  Trip 257 

XVII  Another  Mound  on  the  Bluff     .    .    .  276 

XVIII  The  Little  Teacher 292 

XIX  Toward  the  Rising  Sun 311 


THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A 
PRAIRIE  GIRL 


i 


V     ^.  OF  J 


THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A 
PRAIRIE  GIRL 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  STORK 

IT  was  always  a  puzzle  to  the  little  girl  how 
the  stork  that  brought  her  ever  reached  the 
lonely  Dakota  farm-house  on  a  December  af- 
ternoon without  her  being  frozen;  and  it  was 
another  mystery,  just  as  deep,  how  the  strange 
bird,  which  her  mother  said  was  no  larger  than 
a  blue  crane,  was  able,  on  leaving,  to  carry  her 
father  away  with  him  to  some  family,  a  long, 
long  distance  off,  that  needed  a  grown-up  man 
as  badly  as  her  three  big  brothers  needed  a  little 
sister. 

She  often  tried  to  remember  the  stork,  his 
broad  nest  of  pussy-willows  on  the  chin  of  the 
new  moon,  and  the  long  trip  down  through  the 
wind  and  snow  to  the  open  window  of  the  farm- 
house. But  though  she  never  forgot  her  chris- 
tening, and  could  even  remember  things  that 
happened  before  that,  her  wonderful  journey, 
she  found,  had  slipped  entirely  from  her  mind. 


4        BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

But  her  mother  and  the  three  big  brothers,  ever 
reminded  by  the  stone-piled  mound  on  the  car- 
nelian  bluff,  never  forgot  that  day: 

An  icy  blizzard,  carrying  in  its  teeth  the 
blinding  sleet  that  neither  man  nor  animal  could 
breast,  was  driving  fiercely  across  the  wide 
plains;  and  the  red,  frame  dwelling  and  its 
near-lying  buildings  of  sod,  which  only  the  pre- 
vious morning  had  stood  out  bravely  against 
the  dreary,  white  waste,  were  wrapped  and  al- 
most hidden  in  great  banks  that  had  been  caught 
up  from  the  river  heights  and  hurled  with 
piercing  roars  against  them. 

The  storm  had  begun  the  day  before,  blowing 
first  in  fitful  gusts  that  whistled  under  the  eaves, 
sent  the  hay  from  the  stacks  flying  through  the 
yard,  and  lifted  the  ends  of  the  roof  shingles 
threateningly.  It  had  gradually  strengthened 
to  a  gale  toward  midday,  and  the  steady  down- 
fall of  flakes  had  been  turned  into  a^  biting 
scourge  that  whipped  up  the  soft  cloak  from  the 
face  of  the  open,  treeless  prairie  and  sent  it 
lashing  through  the  frigid  air.  Long  before 
night  had  begun  to  settle  down,  no  eye  could 
penetrate  the  scudding  snow  a  foot  beyond  the 
window  ledges,  except  when  a  sudden  stilling 
of  the  tempest  disclosed  the  writhing  cotton- 
wood  break  to  the  north,  and  the  double  row 
of  ash  saplings  leading  south  to  the  blotted, 
printless  highway. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  STORK  5 

With  darkness,  the  fury  of  the  blizzard  had 
redoubled,  and  the  house  had  rocked  fearfully 
as  each  fresh  blast  struck  it,  so  that  the  nails 
in  the  sheathing  had  snapped  from  time  to  time, 
and  rung  in  the  tense  atmosphere  like  pistol 
shots.  Momentary  lulls— ominous  breathing- 
spells— had  interrupted  the  blizzard;  but  they 
had  served  only  to  intensify  it  when  it  broke 
again.  As  it  rose  from  threatening  silence  to 
rending  shrieks,  the  bellowing  of  the  frightened 
cattle,  tied  in  their  narrow  stalls,  had  mingled 
with  it,  and  added  to  its  terrors. 

But,  when  another  wild,  sunless  day  had  come 
in,  the  drift-piled  home  had  ceased  to  shiver 
and  creak  or  admit  any  sounds  from  without. 
Hour  by  hour  it  had  settled  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  snow  that  weighted  its  roof  and  shut- 
tered its  windows,  until,  shrouded  and  almost 
effaced,  it  lay,  at  last,  secure  from  the  tempest 
that  swept  over  it  and  deaf  to  the  calls  from  the 
buried  stables. 

Down-stairs  in  the  big,  dim  sitting-room,  the 
neighbor  woman  was  keeping  the  lonely  vigil 
of  the  stork.  Early  the  previous  day,  before 
the  storm  began,  and  when  the  plains  still 
stretched  away  on  all  sides,  a  foam-covered 
sea,  the  huge  swells  of  which  had  been  gripped 
and  frozen  into  quiet,  the  anxious  husband  had 
mounted  and  started  westward  across  the  prai- 
rie.   The  horse  had  not  carried  him  far,  how- 


6        BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

ever,  for  the  drifts  would  not  bear  its  weight; 
so,  when  the  three  big  brothers,  hearing  his  hal- 
loo, had  taken  him  a  pair  of  rude  skees  made  of 
barrel  staves,  he  had  helped  them  free  the  floun- 
dering animal,  and  had  then  gone  on  afoot. 

His  destination  was  the  army  post  at  the 
reservation,  and  he  had  made  swift  progress  to- 
ward it.  The  ice-bound  Vermilion  did  not  check 
him,  and  the  sealed  sloughs  shortened  his  path. 
Onward  he  had  sped,  tirelessly.  In  half  an 
hour  his  scarlet  nubia  had  blended  into  the 
black  of  his  fur-lined  coat;  in  an  hour  he  was 
only  a  speck,  now  in  sight  upon  the  top  of  a 
swell,  now  lost  in  its  trough.  And  then  he  had 
disappeared  altogether  over  the  long,  unbroken 
line  of  the  horizon. 

That  day  had  passed,  and  the  night;  and, 
when  a  second  day  was  half  gone,  he  had  not 
yet  returned.  The  farm-house,  as  hopeful  as  a 
sailor's  home,  felt  little  worry,  believing  that  he 
was  too  good  a  plainsman  to  brave  such  a  bliz- 
zard foolishly,  and  pictured  him  fretting  his 
time  away  at  the  post,  or  in  some  hospitable 
shanty  nearer  by. 

But  the  neighbor  woman  was  full  of  fear  for 
his  safety.  And,  as  she  waited  alone,  she  walked 
to  and  fro,  watching  first  the  canopied  bed  in 
the  corner,  and  then  the  shaking  sash  that,  if 
Providence  were  merciful,  might  at  any  mo- 
ment frame  an  eager  face.    Every  little  while 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  STORK  7 

she  paused  at  the  stove,  where,  the  hay  twists 
having  long  since  given  out,  she  fed  the  fire 
from  a  heaping  basket  of  yellow,  husked  corn. 

The  three  big  brothers  were  in  the  attic  over- 
head, huddled  close  about  the  warm  stovepipe 
that  came  up  through  the  floor,  with  the  dogs  at 
their  backs.  It  was  dusk  there,  too,  for  the 
western  gable  window,  broken  the  evening  be- 
fore by  the  force  of  the  storm,  was  nailed  tight 
from  within  and  piled  high  from  without; 
while  the  window  in  the  opposite  end  of  the 
house  was  intact,  but  veiled  with  frost  and  hung 
with  icicles.  The  week's  washing,  swinging 
under  the  peaked  roof  on  a  long,  sagging 
clothes-line,  added  further  to  the  gloom.  Stiff 
and  specter-like,  it  moved  gently  in  the  cur- 
rents of  air  that  blew  down  from  the  bare, 
slanting  rafters,  each  garment  taking  on  a  fan- 
tastic shape  of  its  own.  Near  the  pipe  hung  the 
stockings  of  the  family,  limp  and  steaming  in 
the  twilight. 

The  biggest  brother  had  been  reading  aloud 
to  the  other  two ;  but,  as  the  light  grew  less,  he 
threw  the  paper-bound  book  aside,  and  they 
began  to  talk  in  subdued  tones.  Below  them, 
they  could  hear  the  neighbor  woman  walking 
back  and  forth,  and  the  popping  of  the  kernels 
in  the  stove;  behind  them,  the  dogs  slept;  and 
from  above  came  faint  sounds  of  the  storm. 

Outside,  night  was  coming  on  fast— the  early 


8        BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

night  of  a  stormy  day.  The  neighbor  woman, 
noting  the  increasing  darkness  in  the  sitting- 
room,  lighted  a  tall  kerosene  lamp  and  set  it 
on  the  clock-shelf  near  a  south  window.  The 
lower  windows  to  the  west  were  closed  and 
sightless,  so  no  beacon  could  shine  from  them; 
but  she  hoped  that  the  lamp's  feeble  rays, 
piercing  the  unscreened  top  panes  of  the  south 
window,  might  by  chance  catch  the  eye  of  the 
husband  were  he  striving  to  return. 

With  increasing  darkness,  the  blizzard  grew 
in  strength  and  fury.  It  loosened  a  clapboard 
below  the  east  gable,  and  shrieked  through  the 
partial  opening.  It  rattled  the  window,  and 
tore  at  the  heavy  planks  on  the  roof  that  sup- 
ported the  stove-pipe.  It  blew  the  snow  from 
the  cracks  and  whistled  through  them  shrilly. 
It  caught  the  house  in  its  drifts  and  shook  it. 

The  dogs,  awakened  by  the  screeching  and 
clash  of  things,  crouched  in  fright  against  their 
masters.  Shepherd,  pointer,  and  Indian  dogs 
trembled  when  the  wind  moaned,  and  answered 
every  whine  from  without  with  another.  The 
St.  Bernard,  separating  himself  from  the  pack, 
sprang  at  a  bound  to  the  boarded-up  window 
and,  raising  his  head,  uttered  long,  dismal 
howls.  The  big  brothers  hastened  to  quiet  him, 
and  spared  neither  foot  nor  fist;  but  the  dog, 
eluding  them,  returned  again  and  again  to  the 
window,  and  mourned  with  his  muzzle  to  the 
west. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  STORK  9 

It  was  while  the  hurricane  was  thus  raging 
over  the  farm-house,  and  when  nothing  but  a 
bit  of  south  roof  and  the  tops  of  the  cotton- 
woods  showed  that  a  habitation  was  there,  that 
the  stork  alighted. 

The  big  brothers  were  drowsing  in  the  dark 
about  the  pipe,  with  the  pack  whimpering  be- 
side them,  and  did  not  know  of  his  coming 
until,  in  a  sudden  lull,  there  came  up  through 
the  open  trap-door  that  led  to  the  sitting-room 
stairs  a  small,  clear,  hailing  cry. 

It  sounded  but  for  an  instant.  Then  the 
storm  broke  again,  the  windows  rattled,  the 
dogs  whined,  the  sleet-charged  air  boomed  and 
thundered  and  sucked  at  the  quivering  house, 
and  darkness,  ever  blacker  and  more  terrible, 
settled  down. 

When  *  the  neighbor  woman  came  softly  up 
and  put  her  head  above  the  trap-door,  she  had 
to  call  again  and  again  into  the  gloom,  through 
which  the  lines  of  frozen  clothes  waved  faint 
and  ghost-like,  before  the  big  brothers  awoke 
and,  rising  from  their  cramped  positions, 
groped  their  way  sleepily  to  the  stairs  and 
followed  her  down.  As  they  reached  the  sit- 
ting-room and  stood  in  a  silent,  waiting  row 
by  the  stove,  the  dogs  about  them,  the  neighbor 
woman  tiptoed  to  the  canopied  bed  in  the  cor- 
ner and  took  up   a  tiny  bundle,   which   she 


10      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

brought  back  and  laid  in  the  arms  of  the  biggest 
brother. 

Then  she  leaned  back,  all  fat  and  smiling,  as 
the  big  brothers  bent  over  the  bundle  and  looked 
into  a  wee,  puckered,  pink  face.  It  was  the  lit- 
tle girl. 


II 

A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING 

THE  christening  of  the  little  girl  began  the 
very  morning  after  the  stork  flew  down 
through  the  blizzard  and  left  her.  For  the  three 
big  brothers,  rejoicing  that  they  were  still  only 
three,  got  out  the  almanac,  the  world's  atlas, 
and  the  dictionary,  went  carefully  through  the 
first  two,  read  a  long  list  in  the  back  of  the  last, 
and  wrote  down  all  the  names  they  liked.  Then 
they  set  about  trying  to  decide  upon  one. 

It  was  difficult,  for  their  selections  were  nu- 
merous. The  world's  atlas  had  yielded  Morena, 
Lansing,  and  Virginia ;  the  back  of  the  diction- 
ary, a  generous  line  beginning  with  Abigail  and 
ending  with  Zoraida;  and  the  almanac.  May 
and  June  from  the  months,  Maria  and  Geral- 
dine  from  the  scattered  jokes,  and  Louisa, 
Fanny,  and  Rose  from  the  testimonials  of 
ladies  who  had  been  cured  of  influenza,  hay- 
fever,  and  chilblains.  So  not  only  that  day, 
but  a  whole  week  passed  away  in  lively  dis- 
cussion, and  they  were  no  nearer  a  choice  than 
ever. 

11 


12      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Their  mother  gave  no  thought  to  the  subject. 
Instead,  from  morning  till  night,  through  the 
lower  western  windows,  now  tunneled  free,  she 
scanned  the  snow-sheeted,  glistening  prairie. 
It  stretched  away  silent,  pathless,  and  treach- 
erous, smiling  up  so  brightly  that  it  blinded 
those  who  crossed  it ;  and  hiding,  as  smilingly, 
those  who  lay  beneath  the  drifts  that  covered  it. 

But  discussion  over  the  naming  never  flagged 
among  the  big  brothers,  for  they  did  not  yet 
share  her  anxiety.  The  chores  were  their  only 
interruption;  still,  while  they  made  twists  for 
the  stove,  melted  snow  for  the  thirsty  stock,  or 
pitched  hay  out  of  the  shaft  that  had  been  sunk 
to  the  half-used  stack  and  piled  it  into  the  cov- 
ered barn  through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  they  kept 
up  the  debate.  But  with  all  the  time  and  talk 
given  the  matter,  no  agreement  seemed  possi- 
ble, until  one  day  when  the  biggest  brother 
made  a  suggestion. 

He  proposed  that  each  write  a  name  upon  a 
piece  of  paper  and  place  it  in  a  hat,  and  that  the 
little  girPs  hand  be  put  in  among  the  pieces, 
so  that  she  could  take  hold  of  one.  The  name 
on  the  slip  she  seized  should  be  hers.  So  the 
ballots  were  prepared,  the  neighbor  woman 
brought  the  little  girl,  and  one  tiny  clinging 
fist  was  guided  into  the  crown.  But  though  the 
pink  palm  would  close  on  a  finger,  it  refused  to 
grasp  a  ballot;  and,  to  show  her  disapproval 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  13 

of  the  scheme,  the  little  girl  held  her  breath 
until  she  was  purple,  screwed  up  her  face,  and 
began  to  cry  lustily. 

The  big  brothers,  when  they  found  that  she 
would  not  choose  for  herself,  repaired  in  dis- 
gust to  the  attic.  But  as  they  gathered  gloom- 
ily about  the  stovepipe,  a  second  plan  offered 
itself  to  them  in  the  shape  of  the  dominoes, 
and  they  began  to  play,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  whoever  came  out  winner  in  the  end 
might  name  the  little  girl. 

The  contests  were  exciting  and  raged  from 
dinner-time  till  dusk,  the  dogs  looking  on  from 
an  outer  circle  and  joining  their  barks  to  the 
shouts  of  the  boys.  When  the  last  game  came 
to  a  close  under  the  swinging,  smoky  lantern 
that  lighted  the  room  from  its  nail  on  a  rafter, 
the  eldest  brother,  victorious,  arose  and  led  the 
way  to  the  sitting-room,  the  other  two  following 
with  the  pack,  and  proudly  proclaimed  the  little 
girl  Edith  Maud. 

But  he  had  not  counted  on  his  mother's 
^vishes.  For  when  she  heard  the  result  of  the 
dominoes,  she  overturned  the  whole  project, 
much  to  the  delight  of  the  vanquished,  by  de- 
claring that  she  did  not  like  Edith  Maud  at  all ; 
and  added  that  the  selection  would  be  made 
from  the  Bible  when  their  father  returned.  So 
the  big  brothers  carefully  hunted  out  every  fem- 
inine name  between  Genesis  and  Revelations. 


14      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

But  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  they  too  grew 
anxious,  and  the  christening  was  forgotten. 
No  news  had  come  from  the  army  post,  and  so, 
one  morning,  they  set  forth  toward  it  with  the 
St.  Bernard,  when  the  warm  sun  was  melting 
the  white  caps  of  the  ridges.  They  did  not  have 
to  go  far.  The  dog  led  them  unerringly  to  a 
near-by  bluff,  from  which  they  returned  a  sad 
procession.  And  next  day  a  mound  rose  on 
the  southern  slope  of  the  carnelian  bluff  and 
was  covered  high  with  stones,  to  keep  away  the 
hungry  prowlers  of  the  plains.  The  storm  that 
had  ushered  in  the  new  life  had  robbed  the 
farm-house  of  the  old. 

Spring  had  opened,  and  the  thawing  prairie 
lay  in  splotches  of  black  and  white  like  the  hide 
of  a  calico  pony,  before  the  family  again 
thought  of  the  naming  of  the  little  girl.  Then 
her  mother  despatched  the  youngest  brother 
to  the  post-office,  a  day's  ride  to  the  east,  to  mail 
an  order  to  a  store  in  a  far-away  city.  Though 
there  seemed  no  possibility  that  it  would  soon 
be  decided  what  to  call  the  little  girl,  prepara- 
tions had  begun  for  the  baptism  at  the  sod 
church  on  the  reservation,  and  the  order  asked 
for  five  yards  of  fine  linen  and  a  pair  of  white 
kid  shoes. 

During  the  busy  days  of  plowing  and  plant- 
ing that  followed,  interest  in  the  christening 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  15 

was  almost  lost.  And  when  the  arrival  of  the 
linen  and  the  shoes  revived  it  one  afternoon  in 
early  summer,  it  was  lost  sight  of  again  in  a 
rush  of  hoeing  and  herding.  So  it  was  not 
until  late  fall,  when  all  the  crops  were  harvested 
and  the  threshers  had  come  and  gone,  that  the 
family  began  once  more  to  consider  it. 

It  was  time  that  the  little  girl  had  a  name  of 
her  own,  for  she  could  trot  the  length  of  the  sit- 
ting-room, if  she  held  on  to  the  biggest  bro- 
ther's finger,  and  walk,  all  by  herself,  from  the 
lounge  to  the  table.  Besides,  she  was  learning 
to  eat  with  a  spoon,  which  she  pounded  crossly 
on  the  oil-cloth  when  she  could  not  find  her 
mouth,  and  was  teething,  without  any  worry 
to  her  mother,  on  an  old  soft  cartridge-belt. 

The  subject  reopened  the  night  the  little  girPs 
mother  cut  out  the  baptismal  robe.  And  while 
she  tucked  it  in  one  succession  of  narrow  rows 
and  began  to  embroider  it  in  lacy  patterns  that 
she  had  learned  to  do  when  she  was  a  little  girl 
in  England,  the  big  brothers  hunted  up  the  lists 
from  the  dictionary,  atlas,  almanac,  and  Bible, 
and  reviewed  them.  But  when  the  autumn  days 
had  been  stitched  and  discussed  away  and  win- 
ter had  come  in,  the  family  was  still  undecided. 
What  pleased  one  big  brother  did  not  please 
another;  and  if  two  agreed,  the  third  opposed 
them.  The  little  girPs  mother  was  even  harder 
to  suit  than  they. 


16      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  afternoon  of  the  first  birthday  anniver- 
sary two  important  things  happened:  the  bap- 
tismal robe  was  finished  and  the  christening 
controversy  took  a  new  turn.  The  big  brothers, 
arguing  hotly,  urged  that  if  a  name  could  be 
found  for  every  new  calf  and  colt  on  the  place, 
the  only  baby  in  the  house  ought  to  have  one. 
Now,  the  little  girPs  mother  always  named  the 
animals,  so,  when  she  heard  their  reproof,  she 
promptly  declared  that  she  would  christen  the 
little  girl  at  once— and  after  an  English  queen. 

The  big  brothers  were  astounded,  recalling 
how  their  American  father  had  objected  to  their 
having  been  named  after  English  kings.  But 
their  mother,  unheeding  their  exclamations, 
wrote  down  a  new  list,  which  started  at  Mary 
Beatrice  and  included  all  the  consorts  she  could 
remember.  But  when  the  queens  had  been  con- 
sidered from  first  to  last,  and  the  little  girl's 
mother  had  made  up  her  mind  fully  and  finally, 
the  house  was  again  torn  with  dissension.  The 
eldest  brother  favored  Elizabeth;  the  biggest, 
Mary ;  and  the  youngest,  Anne.  The  little  girl, 
happy  over  a  big,  blue  glass  ball  with  a  white 
sheep  in  the  center,  alone  was  indifferent  to  the 
dispute,  and  crooned  to  herself  contentedly 
from  the  top  of  the  pile  of  hay  twists. 

But,  in  spite  of  the  wishes  of  the  big  brothers, 
the  christening  would  have  been  decided  that 
day  and  forever  if  it  had  not  been  for  one  cir- 


I 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  17 

cumstance.  The  eldest  brother,  protesting  vig- 
orously against  every  name  but  Elizabeth,  de- 
manded of  the  little  girPs  mother  what  she  had 
selected. 

*  *  Caroline  Matilda,  ^  *  she  said  firmly. 

The  eldest  brother  sprang  to  his  feet  like  a 
flash,  knocking  over  a  bench  in  his  excitement. 

*^ Caroline  Matilda!'^  he  roared,  waving  his 
arms— *' Caroline  Matilda!'^ 

And  the  little  girl,  frightened  at  his  shouting, 
dropped  the  blue  glass  ball,  and  scurried  under 
the  bed. 

It  was  plain,  therefore,  that  she  did  not  like 
the  name  her  mother  had  chosen.  So  the  chris- 
tening continued  to  disturb  the  farm-house.  By 
spring  the  eldest  and  the  youngest  brothers 
were  calling  the  little  girl  Anne,  while  the 
mother  and  the  biggest  brother  were  saluting 
her  as  Victoria. 

Matters  were  still  in  this  unsettled  condition 
when  the  army  chaplain  rode  in  from  the  res- 
ervation one  night  late  in  the  summer.  He  was 
on  his  way  to  a  big  Sioux  tepee  camp,  and  car- 
ried in  the  saddle-bags  flung  across  his  pommel 
a  well-worn  Bible  and  a  brace  of  pistols.  As  he 
entered  the  sitting-room,  the  little  girl  eyed 
him  tremblingly,  for  his  spurs  jingled  loudly 
as  he  strode,  and  the  leather  fringe  on  his  rid- 
ing-breeches snapped  against  his  high  boot-legs. 

He  was  grieved  to  find  the  farm-house  in  such 


18      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

a  state,  and  counseled  the  little  girl's  mother 
to  delay  the  christening  no  longer,  suggesting 
a  private  baptism,  such  as  the  big  brothers  had 
had.  But  to  no  effect.  She  declared  that  a 
private  baptism  might  do  very  well  for  boys, 
but  that  the  only  daughter  in  the  family  should 
be  named  with  more  ceremony.  The  chaplain, 
finding  that  he  could  not  settle  the  question, 
made  it  the  subject  of  his  evening  prayer  in  the 
home  circle. 

The  fame  of  the  baptismal  robe  and  the  white 
Idd  shoes  had  gone  far  and  wide  over  the  prai- 
rie, and  they  were  talked  of  from  the  valley  of 
the  Missouri  to  DeviPs  Lake,  and  from  the 
pipestone  country  to  the  reservations.  So  every 
week  of  that  summer  the  family  welcomed 
squatters'  wives  from  the  scattered  claims 
round  about,  and  women  from  the  northern 
forts,  whose  eyes,  strange  to  dainty  things  or 
long  starved  of  them,  fed  greedily  on  the 
smooth  skin  of  the  ivory  boots  and  the  soft 
folds  of  the  dress.  Shortly  after  the  chaplain 's 
stay,  a  swarthy  Polish  woman,  shod  in  buck- 
skin, came  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  farm-house, 
and  the  little  girPs  mother,  eager  to  show  her 
handiwork,  lifted  the  dress  tenderly,  but  with 
a  flourish,  from  the  pasteboard  box  where  it 
lay  upon  wild-rose  leaves  and  a  fragrant  red 
apple,  and  held  it  against  the  little  girl  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  displayed 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  19 

the  pretty  boots.  The  big  brothers,  hurrying 
from  the  barn-yard,  crowded  one  another  to 
share  in  the  triumph. 

But  suddenly  their  delight  was  changed  to 
dismay.  For  the  little  girPs  mother,  eager  to 
win  more  praise  from  the  Polish  woman,  had 
started  to  deck  the  little  girl  in  the  dress  and 
shoes,  and  had  discovered  that  the  beautiful 
robe  was  too  short  and  too  narrow  for  its  plump 
wearer,  while  its  sleeves  left  her  fat  wrists  bare 
to  the  elbow.  And  the  white  kid  shoes  would 
not  even  go  on ! 

The  youngest  brother  started  for  the  post- 
oflSce  that  afternoon  to  mail  the  shoes  back  to 
the  store  in  the  far-away  city,  together  with  a 
drawing  on  paper  of  the  little  girl's  left  foot, 
showing  just  how  large  the  new  pair  should  be. 
The  very  same  day  the  little  girl's  mother  be- 
gan to  rip  out  tucks. 

When  the  chaplain  stopped  on  his  return  trip, 
be  found  that  the  christening  was  still  agitating 
the  farm-house,  the  big  brothers  having  formed 
a  triple  alliance  in  favor  of  Elizabeth,  while 
the  little  girl's  mother  was  adhering  more 
warmly  than  ever  to  Victoria.  So  he  spent  the 
evening  in  renewed  argument  and  prayer,  and 
offered  Catherine  as  a  compromise.  But  the 
little  girl's  mother  attached  no  importance  to 
his  suggestion,  knowing  that  Catherine  was  the 
name  of  his  wife. 


20      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Before  starting  for  the  reservation  in  the 
morning,  as  he  sat  upon  his  pony  with  the 
family  in  a  circle  about  him,  he  communicated 
a  notable  piece  of  news.  Some  time  during 
June  of  the  coming  year  the  good  bishop,  who 
was  greatly  beloved  by  the  Indians,  would  visit 
the  post  to  marry  the  general 's  daughter  to  the 
major.  The  wedding  would  take  place  in  the 
sod  church,  and  would  be  followed  by  a  ser- 
mon. 

*^And  then,''  added  the  chaplain,  ** could 
come  the  baptism." 

The  little  girl's  mother  was  delighted  with 
the  idea,  and  decided  on  the  spot  to  delay  the 
baptism  until  June.  The  administering  of  the 
rite  by  the  good  bishop  would  give  it  a  certain 
pomp,  while  his  presence  would  insure  the  at- 
tendance of  every  woman  on  the  plains,  and 
the  robe  and  the  shoes  would  receive  due  parade 
and  admiration. 

The  chaplain,  satisfied  at  having  accom- 
plished even  so  little  for  peace,  cantered  off,  the 
family  looking  after  him.  But  when  he  reached 
the  reservation  road  he  came  to  a  sudden  halt, 
wheeled  sharply,  and  raised  his  hands  to  his 
face  to  make  a  funnel  of  them.  All  fell  into 
silence  and  listened  for  his  parting  admonition. 

^^Make  it  Catherine!"  he  shouted,  and  can- 
tered on. 

When  the  little  girl's  mother  thought  of  the 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  21 

months  that  must  pass  before  the  baptism,  she 
felt  sorry  that  she  had  been  so  hasty  about 
sending  for  the  second  pair  of  kid  shoes;  for 
by  June  of  the  coming  year  the  little  girPs  feet 
would  be  too  big  for  them.  So  the  youngest 
brother  was  again  sent  to  the  post-office,  this 
time  with  a  letter  that  asked  the  store  in  a  far- 
away city  to  send  two  sizes  larger  than  the 
drawing. 

While  summer  was  fading  into  autumn,  and 
autumn  was  merging  into  winter  again,  the 
naming  of  the  little  girl  was  not  forgotten. 
The  subject  came  up  every  time  her  mother 
brought  out  the  new  pair  of  sleeves  which  she 
was  embroidering.  But  it  was  talked  over  ami- 
cably, the  big  brothers  having  relinquished  all 
right  to  a  share  in  the  selection  because  their 
mother  had  at  last  taken  an  irrevocable  stand 
in  favor  of  her  own  choice,  and  had  intrenched 
her  position  by  a  promise  that  they  could  have 
that  yearns  muskrat  money.  So  when  Christ- 
mas morning  dawned  and  the  little  girl  tem- 
porarily received  her  long,  dignified  name,  to- 
gether with  a  beaver  pelt  for  a  cap,  the  big 
brothers,  whittling  shingles  into  shape  for  the 
stretching  of  their  winter's  catch,  silently  ac- 
cepted the  decision. 

The  long,  dignified  name  suited  the  little  girl. 
She  had  grown  so  tall  that  she  could  look  over 
the  St.  Bernard's  back,  and  so  agile  that  she 


22      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

had  walked  out  six  pairs  of  moccasins  in  as 
many  months.  And  when  the  new  shoes  arrived 
and  the  sleeves  were  finished,  she  grew  so  proud 
that  she  wanted  to  wear  her  gobelin  blue  apron 
every  day. 

As  spring  opened,  and  the  last  tuck  was  taken 
out  of  the  robe,  the  big  brothers  put  their  guns 
and  traps  away  in  the  attic,  and  once  more 
turned  to  the  plowing  and  planting  of  the  fields. 
But,  in  spite  of  the  farm  work,  they  found  time 
to  make  preparations  for  the  approaching  bap- 
tism. They  painted  the  light  wagon,  giving 
the  box  a  glossy  black  surface  and  the  wheels 
a  coat  of  green,  while  the  little  girPs  mother 
began  three  suits  for  them,  and  a  brand-new 
dress  for  herself  out  of  one  she  had  brought 
with  her  when  the  family  came  to  the  plains. 
The  evenings  were  no  less  busy.  The  mother 
sewed  steadily,  the  big  brothers  fixed  up  the 
light  harness,  and  the  little  girl,  scorning  sleep, 
alternately  hindered  and  helped  them,  and  held 
on  to  the  ends  of  tugs  and  reins  with  her  pudgy 
hands  while  the  big  brothers  greased  and  rub- 
bed and  polished. 

When  the  trip  to  the  reservation  was  less 
than  a  week  off,  the  preparations  for  it  were 
redoubled,  and  the  farm  was  for  a  time  neg- 
lected. The  little  girl's  mother  put  the  last 
stitches  on  the  new  clothes;  the  big  brothers, 
each  having  firmly  refused  to  let  either  of  the 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  23 

others  try  a  hand  at  clipping  him,  made  a  jour- 
ney to  the  post-office  to  get  their  hair  cut  by 
the  hardware  man;  and  the  little  girl  wore  a 
despised  sunbonnet,  had  her  yellow  locks  put 
up  on  rags,  and  went  to  bed  every  night  with 
clabbered  milk  on  her  face. 

At  last  the  great  day  arrived.  Early  in  the 
morning,  before  the  rising  sun  flamed  against 
the  eastern  windows,  an  ambitious  young 
rooster,  perched  on  the  cultivator  outside,  gave 
such  a  loud,  croupy  call  to  the  farm-yard  that 
he  awakened  the  little  girl.  She,  in  turn,  awak- 
ened her  mother.  So  it  was  in  good  time  that 
the  family,  after  eating  a  quick  breakfast  and 
hitching  the  gray  colts  to  the  newly  painted 
wagon,  climbed  in  and  started  off. 

The  little  girl,  sitting  on  the  front  seat  be- 
tween her  mother  and  the  eldest  brother,  her 
christening  robe  and  the  kid  shoes  wrapped  up 
carefully  and  clasped  in  her  arms,  swelled  with 
importance  as  the  colts,  resplendent  in  their  new 
harness,  trotted  briskly  down  the  rows  of  ash 
saplings  in  front  of  the  house  and  turned  the 
comer  into  the  main  road.  Speechless  and 
happy,  she  sat  with  her  lips  pressed  tightly 
together  beneath  the  big  sunbonnet  that  hid  the 
rag- wound  corkscrews  on  her  sore  little  head; 
and  when  the  team  crossed  the  Vermilion  and 
passed  the  sod  shanty  on  the  bluffs,  she  did  not 
even  turn  her  eyes  from  the  long,  straight  road 


24      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

that  stretched  westward  to  glance  at  the  Swede 
boy  who  had  come  out  to  see  her  go  by. 

But  before  the  ride  was  half  over  she  grew 
very  tired.  So,  after  she  had  sleepily  dropped 
the  shoes  and  the  robe  into  the  hay  in  the  wagon- 
box  several  times,  she  munched  a  cooky,  drank 
some  buttermilk,  and  was  lifted  to  the  hind  seat, 
where  the  biggest  brother  held  her  in  his  arms. 
When  she  next  opened  her  eyes,  the  team  was 
standing  in  front  of  Officers '  Row,  and  the  col- 
onel and  his  wife  were  beside  the  wagon  helping 
her  mother  down. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  the  little  girl 
was  carried  off  to  be  dressed,  though  she  wanted 
to  stay  in  the  parlor  and  play  with  the  colonel 's 
son ;  and  when  she  was  ready  for  the  baptism, 
the  big  brothers  came  in  to  see  her  as  she  stood 
proudly  upon  the  snowy  counterpane  of  the 
wide  feather-bed,  the  embroidered  robe  sticking 
out  saucily  over  her  stiff  petticoats  and  upheld 
by  two  sturdy,  white-stockinged  legs.  On  her 
shining  curls  perched  a  big  white  satin  bow, 
while  incasing  each  foot,  and  completing  the 
whole,  was  a  dainty,  soft  kid  shoe. 

''My,  you  're  a  blossom!''  gasped  the  big- 
gest* brother,  walking  around  and  around  her ; 
''an'  not  any  of  your  skimpy  flowers,  neither; 
just  a  whacking  big  white  rose  with  a  yellow- 
center  ! ' ' 

The  white  rose  made  no  reply,  for  she  had 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  25 

npset  on  the  fat  feathers  in  trying  to  walk,  had 
broken  the  string  that  held  the  pillow-shams, 
and  had  mussed  her  stiff  petals.  So  the  colo- 
nel's wife  put  her  on  a  paper  spread  over  a 
leather  trunk. 

When  the  two  families  started  for  the  sod 
church,  she  was  carried  by  the  admiring  big- 
gest brother,  and  on  each  side  of  her  walked 
her  mother  and  the  colonel's  wife,  the  others 
following.  She  kept  turning  around  to  look  at 
the  colonel's  son  as  they  went  along,  and  so 
did  not  see  the  church  until  she  was  close  to  it. 

It  made  a  quaint  picture  in  the  warm  June 
sunlight  as  the  little  procession  neared  it.  The 
rude  cross  surmounting  the  gable  above  its 
entrance  was  twined  with  morning-glory  vines 
that  had  found  their  way  to  it  after  hiding  the 
low,  thick,  black  walls  beneath ;  and  surround- 
ing the  building  was  a  fence  of  scantlings— built 
every  spring  by  the  chaplain  to  keep  the  troop 
horses  and  the  commissary's  cows  from  grazing 
off  its  sides,  and  stolen  every  fall  by  the  half- 
breeds  when  the  first  frosts  came— that  served 
as  a  hitching-post  for  raw-boned  army  mounts 
and  scraggy  Indian  ponies.  Beyond  this  circle 
were  wagons  and  big,  clumsy,  box-topped  carts 
from  far-lying  farms,  with  oxen  tied  to  their 
wheels  and  swaying  their  weary  necks  under 
•heavy  yokes. 

The  church  still  wore  its  wedding  decorations 


26      BIOGKAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

of  cat-tails  and  willow-boughs  when  the  door 
swung  open  to  admit  the  christening  party,  and 
over  the  step  that  led  up  to  the  altar  }  ing  a 
golden  bell  of  heart-leaved  buttercups.  As  the 
little  girl  crossed  the  threshold,  she  looked  on 
the  crowded,  waiting  congregation  with  eager, 
half- frightened  eyes.  On  each  side  of  the  aisle, 
filling  the  rear  benches,  were  Indians  and  half- 
breeds,  the  gay  government  blankets  of  the  men 
and  the  bright  calico  dresses,  striped  shawls, 
and  gayer  blankets  of  the  women  setting  off 
their  wide,  stolid  faces;  here  and  there  among 
them,  in  greasy  breeches  and  flannel  shirts,  were 
rough  cattlemen  and  trappers ;  and  the  troop 's 
famous  scout,  the  half-breed  Eagle  Eye,  sat  in 
the  midst  of  them,  craning  his  neck  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her.  Instead  of  the  red  handker- 
chief that  he  wore  about  his  forehead  to  keep 
his  black  hair  out  of  his  eyes,  he  had  tied,  in 
honor  of  the  occasion,  a  strip  of  bleached  mus- 
lin, and  under  it  his  eyes  sparkled  and  his  teeth 
gleamed  as  he  smiled  at  the  white  papoose. 

When  the  biggest  brother  started  toward  the 
altar,  the  little  girl  hurriedly  smoothed  the 
christening  robe  and  put  out  the  white  kid  shoes 
so  that  everybody  might  see  them.  And  when 
they  passed  the  frontier  families  and  came  in 
line  with  the  aristocratic  army  benches,  her 
cheeks  were  flushed  a  vivid  pink,  and  she  was 
sitting  proudly  erect. 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  27 

Then  she  beheld  the  chaplain  standing  at  the 
step  in  a  long,  white  dress.  Scarcely  had  she 
gottenftver  her  surprise  at  his  strange  appear- 
ance, when  she  saw  a  man  join  him  who  was 
garbed  even  more  wonderfully.  His  dark  hair 
was  combed  back  and  rested,  like  Eagle  Eye's, 
on  his  shoulders,  and  the  sleeves  of  his  robe 
were  wide  and  ruffled  at  the  wrist.  It  was  the 
good  bishop. 

The  next  moment  they  were  standing  before 
him,  the  little  girl  and  the  biggest  brother  at 
the  middle  of  the  line  and  the  others  on  each 
side. 

The  chaplain  raised  his  hand,  and  the  white 
people  stood  up.  And  after  he  had  waved  both 
arms  commandingly  and  scowled,  the  Indians 
and  the  half-breeds  got  up,  too,  and  slouched 
against  the  benches  while  the  good  bishop  said 
a  long  prayer  and  followed  it  with  a  longer 
reading.  The  biggest  brother  waited  very 
quietly  through  it  all,  but  he  shifted  the  little 
girl  from  one  arm  to  the  other  two  or  three 
times. 

When  the  reading  was  over,  the  little  girPs 
mother  answered  a  few  questions  in  a  low  voice. 
As  the  good  bishop  began  to  pray  again,  the 
chaplain  lifted  a  silver  vessel  in  his  hands  and 
held  it  up  solemnly.  The  little  girl  saw  that  it 
was  the  colonel 's  fruit-dish,  and  that  it  was  full 
of  water. 


28      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

She  looked  about  inquiringly,  but  all  who 
were  near  her  had  their  heads  bent ;  and  at  the 
close  of  the  prayer,  before  she  had  time  to 
question,  the  good  bishop  took  her  into  his 
arms. 

She  was  frightened  and  wriggled  to  get 
down,  not  seeing  the  warning  in  her  mother's 
eyes.  The  good  bishop  paid  no  attention  to  her, 
however,  but  leaned  forward  and  spoke  to  the 
colonel  and  his  wife. 

^  *  Name  this  child, ' '  he  said. 

The  little  girl  did  not  hear  their  answer,  for 
she  was  watching  his  hand.  It  was  poised  just 
above  the  fruit-dish,  as  if  he  meant  to  plunge  it 
into  the  water. 

She  caught  her  breath  and  raised  herself  sud- 
denly in  his  arms.  The  whole  church  was  bend- 
ing and  stretching  to  see  her,  but  she  for- 
got the  staring  people,  and  was  thinking  only 
of  her  beautiful  robe,  the  kid  shoes,  and  the 
threatening  water. 

A  brief,  solemn  silence  pervaded  the  waiting 
church.  It  was  broken  by  the  good  bishop's 
voice;  and,  at  the  same  time,  his  ruffled  hand 
sank  into  the  fruit-dish,  held  lightly'  between 
the  chaplain's  finger-tips,  and  came  to  the  sur- 
face wet  and  brimming.  As  she  saw  this,  the 
little  girl's  face  turned  from  pink  to  white,  and 
she  caught  her  breath  again. 

Then,  just  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon  her  and 


A  FRONTIER  CHRISTENING  29 

lifted  his  slender  fingers  toward  her  head,  the 
little  girl,  giving  a  sudden  scared,  angry  squirm, 
struck  the  silver  dish  a  resentful,  upward  blow 
with  one  vigorous,  white  kid  shoe. 

The  vessel  bounded  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
horrified  army  chaplain,  overturned  upon  his 
immaculate  robe,  and,  empty,  fell  clattering  to 
the  step  at  his  feet.  And  while  it  spun  there, 
top-like,  for  one  terrible  moment,  the  baptis- 
mal party,  standing  in  front  of  the  good  bishop, 
gazed  in  agonized,  reproachful  silence  at  the 
little  girl,  who  was  looking  back  at  them  defi- 
antly from  the  shelter  of  the  pulpit. 

Later,  when  the  good  bishop  laid  damp  fin- 
gers upon  her  hair,  she  was  christened.  But 
the  family  at  the  farm-house  always  declared 
that  she  did  not  deserve  the  Ibag^^  dignified 
name  chosen  for  her ;  and  the  biggest  brother 
as  often  added  that,  because  the  amount  of 
water  has  everything  to  do  with  a  baptism,  the 
honor  rightfully  belonged  to  the  dripping  army 
chaplain. 


Ill 

"LITTLE   BOY  BLUE" 

UP  and  down  the  oxen  toiled  before  the 
plow,  licking  out  their  tongues,  as  they 
went  along,  for  wisps  of  the  sweet,  new  grass 
which  the  mold-board  was  turning  under.  Af- 
ter them  came  the  biggest  brother,  striving  with 
all  his  might  to  keep  the  beam  level  and  the 
handles  from  dancing  as  the  steel  share  cut  the 
sod  into  wide,  thick  ribbons,  damp  and  black 
on  one  side,  on  the  other  green  and  decked  with 
flowers.  And,  following  the  biggest  brother, 
trotted  the  little  girl,  who  from  time  to  time 
left  the  cool  furrow  to  run  ahead  and  give  the 
steers  a  lash  of  the  gad  she  carried,  or  hopped 
to  one  side  to  keep  from  stepping  with  her  bare 
feet  upon  the  fat  earthworms  that  were  rolled 
out  into  the  sunlight,  where  they  were  pounced 
upon  by  rivaling  blackbirds  circling  in  the  rear. 
It  was  a  cloudy  morning  near  the  end  of  May. 
The  spring  work  on  the  farm  was  long  past,  and 
already  the  fields  rippled  with  com  and  wheat, 
barley  and  oats,  and  blue-flowered  flax.  But 
it  was  not  yet  time  to  begin  the  yearly  onslaught 

30 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE'^  31 

against  intruding  weeds,  so  the  big  brothers 
were  busying  themselves  with  the  erection  of 
a  sod  smoke-house,  which,  at  hog-killing  time, 
would  receive  fresh  hams  and  sides  for  the  win- 
ter's  curing. 

A  strip  of  prairie  land  bordering  the  north- 
em  edge  of  the  grain  had  been  chosen  to  furnish 
the  building  material  because  its  fertile  top 
layer  was  tenaciously  root-bound  and  free  from 
boulders.  And  while  the  biggest  brother 
plowed  it  up,  the  other  two  came  slowly  along 
with  the  Studebaker,  chopped  the  sods  into 
pieces  twice  as  long  as  they  were  wide,  and  laid 
them  carefully  on  the  bed  of  the  wagon. 

The  little  girl  let  the  biggest  brother  hang  the 
gad  about  his  neck  and  helped  for  a  while  with 
the  sod-carrying.  But  every  time  she  put  her 
chubby  arms  around  a  slab,  it  broke  in  two; 
so  her  brothers  told  her  to  stop.  Then  she 
climbed  to  the  wagon-seat  and  drove  the  horses 
beside  the  furrows,  and,  later,  went  to  the  farm- 
yard with  a  load. 

The  smoke-house  was  being  built  beside  the 
corn-cribs.  Before  any  sod  had  been  laid,  the 
eldest  brother  had  marked  out  on  the  ground 
with  a  stick  a  nine-foot  square,  and  in  one  side 
of  it  had  left  a  narrow  door-space  where  two 
scantlings  were  driven  in  upright  to  serve  as 
sides  of  the  casing.  Then,  with  the  dirt  lines 
as  a  guide,  he  had  begun  the  walls,  giving  them 


32      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  thickness  of  two  sods.  When  the  little  girl 
rode  up  they  were  already  above  her  head. 
But  she  did  not  wait  to  see  the  load  she  had 
accompanied  bring  them  up  to  the  eldest  bro- 
ther's waist,  for  it  was  close  upon  noon  and  it 
occurred  to  her  that  there  would  soon  be  a 
table  to  set  in  the  kitchen,  so  she  hurried  out  of 
call  up  the  weedy  path  between  the  wheat  and 
the  corn,  to  where  the  oxen  were  still  lazily 
drawing  the  plow. 

She  picked  up  the  gad  again  and  sent  it 
whisking  about  the  black  flanks  of  the  steers. 
But  when  she  had  gone  up  and  down  till  three 
long  sods  lay  lapping  each  other  like  heavy 
ruffles,  she  grew  tired  of  following  the  biggest 
brother  and  went  up  the  carnelian  bluff  to  the 
stone  pile  and  sat  down. 

Her  mother,  standing  at  the  kitchen  door, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  saw  the  flut- 
tering blue  calico  on  the  hillside  and  smiled 
at  it  through  tears.  Nearly  four  years  and  a 
half  had  passed  since  the  rock-covered  mound 
had  risen  among  the  snow-drifts,  yet  during 
all  this  time  the  little  girl  had  never  been  told 
its  sad  secret,  for  the  family  wished  her  to  go 
about  the  farm  without  fear. 

She  had  often  wondered,  however,  why,  when 
her  mother  wanted  to  have  a  good  cry,  she  al- 
ways sat  at  the  kitchen  window  that  looked  out 
across  the  row  of  stunted  apple-trees,  the  sor- 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  33 

ghiim  patch,  and  finally  the  corn,  to  where  the 
camelian  bluff  lifted  its  pebbly  head ;  and  why, 
whenever  the  big  brothers  saw  their  mother 
weeping  there,  if  it  were  winter,  they  always 
coaxed  her  into  the  sitting-room,  where  a  pile 
of  magazines  and  books,  bought  to  divert  her, 
lay  beside  the  lounge;  or,  if  it  were  summer, 
out  into  the  front  garden,  where  a  low  bench 
stood  against  the  house,  under  the  lilac-bush, 
facing  the  round  and  diamond-shaped  beds  of 
scarlet  verbenas,  yellow  marguerites,  bache- 
lor's-buttons and  pansies. 

But,  though  the  little  girl  was  ignorant  of 
what  the  stone  pile  hid,  she  was,  nevertheless, 
thinking  of  mournful  things  as  she  sat  there. 
The  Christmas  before,  Santa  Claus  had  stin- 
gily dropped  but  one  present  down  the  long 
stovepipe  that  carried  up  the  smoke  from  the 
sitting-room  stove— one  present  to  serve  as 
both  a  holiday  and  a  birthday  remembrance; 
and  that  had  been  a  big,  ugly  crockery  doirs 
head  with  bumpy  brown  hair,  staring  blue  eyes, 
fat,  pink  cheeks,  and  flinty  shoulders.  The  gift, 
aided  by  the  confidences  of  the  Swede  boy,  had 
almost  shaken  her  belief  in  Santa  Claus,  whom 
she  had  asked  in  a  letter  to  give  her  a  bought 
riding-whip  and  a  book  that  told  more  about 
Robinson  Crusoe.  Instead,  the  homely  head 
had  been  left,  and  she  felt  sure  (and  the  Swede 
boy  assured  her)  that  it  could  only  have  been 


34      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

picked  out  for  her  by  the  eldest  brother.  And 
when,  after  gazing  down  upon  her  stupidly  for 
two  or  three  months  from  the  clock-shelf,  it 
was  finally  fastened,  by  thread  run  through  the 
holes  in  its  shoulders,  to  a  clumsy,  jointless, 
sawdust  body,  it  had  only  served  to  remind  her 
more  bitterly  than  ever  of  the  ill  fortune  that 
could  make  two  great  events  in  one  small  life 
fall  upon  the  selfsame  day. 

The  little  girl  had  often  complained  of  the 
stork's  bringing  her  at  Christmas-time,  and  had 
been  promised  by  the  biggest  brother  that,  when 
they  should  all  agree  that  she  was  very  good 
and  deserving— because  she  had  cheerfully  done 
everything  she  had  been  told— she  should  have 
her  birthday  changed  to  June!  But  so  far  the 
promise  had  never  been  fulfilled,  for  the  little 
girl  did  not  hold,  as  they  did,  that  the  compact 
included  the  washing  of  potatoes  or  the  scrap- 
ing of  the  mush-kettle.  Now,  June  was  almost 
at  hand  again,  and,  as  she  waited  on  the  bluff 
for  the  cow-horn  to  sound  the  call  for  dinner, 
she  wondered  if  the  treasured  change  in  dates 
would  ever  be  made. 

While  she  was  still  perched  upon  the  top- 
most rock,  she  heard  a  faint  shout  from  the 
farm-yard,  and  looking  that  way,  saw  the  eld- 
est brother  standing  on  the  seat  of  the  Stude- 
baker,  frantically  waving  his  arms.  She  got 
down,  ran  around  to  the  western  side  of  the  hill, 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  35 

and  called  to  the  biggest  brother  on  the  level 
prairie  below  her.  He  stopped  the  ox-team  and 
tried  to  understand  what  the  eldest  was  say- 
ing. But  it  was  not  made  clear  until  the 
youngest  unhitched  a  horse  from  the  wagon 
and  mounting  it,  still  harnessed,  started  across 
the  wheat-field  with  the  dogs  in  full  cry  before 
him. 

The  herd,  which  before  breakfast  had  been 
driven  north  to  the  river  meadows,  was  return- 
ing to  feed  upon  the  young  crops,  and  was  dan- 
gerously near  the  river  edge  of  the  wheat.  The 
cattle  were  grazing  as  they  advanced,  the  cows 
leading  and  the  beef  cattle  bringing  up  the  rear. 
And  when  the  foremost  animals  saw  the  young- 
est brother  cantering  toward  them  with  the 
pack,  they  only  hurried  forward  the  faster  so 
as  to  get  a  taste  of  the  forbidden  grain  before 
they  were  compelled  to  turn  tail. 

Snapping  and  yelping,  the  dogs  came  down 
upon  them,  and  the  herd,  two  hundred  strong, 
fled  before  them,  with  futile  reaches  after  mouth- 
fuls  of  the  wheat  as  they  ran.  But,  scarcely  an 
hour  later,  when  the  little  girl  was  sauntering 
home  behind  the  biggest  brother  and  the  oxen, 
the  cattle  faced  about  and  started  slowly  back 
again;  and,  when  the  family  was  just  gathering 
about  the  dinner-table,  they  swarmed  across 
the  prairie  and  into  the  fields.  This  time  the 
youngest  brother  not  only  rode  out  and  drove 


36      BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

them  back  to  the  meadows,  but  remained  be- 
tween them  and  the  farm  till  the  biggest  finished 
his  meal  and  relieved  him. 

It  was  plain  that  some  one  would  have  to  stay 
with  the  cattle  throughout  the  rest  of  the  day ; 
for,  having  gotten  a  taste  of  the  grain,  they 
would  return  as  often  as  they  were  driven 
away  and  trample  down  what  they  did  not 
steal.  But  not  one  of  the  big  brothers  felt  that 
he  could  be  spared  from  the  work  on  the 
smoke-house. 

**Say,  ma,*^  said  the  eldest  brother,  looking 
at  the  little  girl  as  he  got  up  from  the  dinner- 
table  and  took  his  hat  from  the  elk  antlers  in 
the  hall,  ^ '  I  Ve  thought  the  whole  thing  out,  and 
I  don't  see  why  this  youngster  can't  herd.  She 
learned  to  ride ;  now  she  can  keep  them  cattle  in 
the  meadows  as  well  as  not. ' ' 

**0h,  you  know  she  's  too  little,"  answered 
her  mother ;  *  *  she  'd  fall  ofP  her  pony  if  the  cat- 
tle crowded,  and  get  stepped  on. ' ' 

*  ^  Ah,  too  little, ' '  he  said  superciliously.  *  ^  All 
she  'd  have  to  do  is  stay  behind  the  cattle  and 
sick  the  dogs  every  little  while. ' ' 

The  little  girl 's  mother  shook  her  head. 

**Well,  we  could  put  her  on  the  pinto  and 
fasten  her  feet  so  's  she  could  n't  fall  off,"  he 
persisted. 

The  mother  looked  down  at  the  little  girl, 
still  busy  over  her  plate  of  bacon  and  eggs. 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  37 

**Well,  maybe  she  could  do  that/'  she  said 
thoughtfully. 

^*0h,  I  'm  too  little/'  expostulated  the  little 
girl,  between  two  bites. 

*  *  Little !  You  great  big  thing ! ' '  scolded  the 
eldest  brother  as  he  went  out.  *^What  are  you 
good  for,  anyway?    Not  worth  your  salt.'' 

When  he  was  gone  around  the  corner  of  the 
kitchen,  the  little  girl  left  her  high  bench  and 
sat  down  crossly  upon  the  door-step.  **He  's 
always  'busing  me,"  she  complained.  ^*When 
1  want  to  do  anyfing,  he  says  I  'm  too  little; 
but  when  he  wants  me  to  do  anyfing  he  finks 
I  'm  big  enough." 

**Now,  pet  lamb,"  said  her  mother,  **you 
don't  have  to  herd  if  you  don't  want  to.  But 
I  think  you  'd  be  safe  on  the  pinto,  and,  per- 
haps, if  you  went  the  boys  would  all  remember 
their  promise  about  your  birthday. ' ' 

The  little  girl,  understanding  what  was 
meant,  looked  up  at  her  mother  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  whipped  through  the  sitting-room  to 
her  bed,  pulled  on  a  pair  of  beaded  moccasins, 
took  her  sailor  hat  off  a  nail,  and  started  for  the 
smoke-house. 

The  eldest  brother  went  across  the  reserva- 
tion road  to  where  the  pinto  was  picketed  in 
the  grassy  swale,  and  brought  her  in,  with  her 
blind  black  colt  trotting  at  her  heels.    And  when 


38      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

he  had  bridled  her  and  girthed  on  the  soft, 
woolly  pelt  of  a  sheep,  he  lifted  the  little  girl 
to  her  back  and  fastened  both  bare  ankles  to 
the  cinch  with  hame-straps.  Then  he  put  the 
short  reins  into  the  little  girl's  hands,  gave  the 
mare  a  good  slap  on  the  flanks,  and  watched 
horse,  rider,  and  colt  depart  northward  toward 
the  cattle.  For  it  had  been  settled,  when  the 
biggest  brother  came  in,  that  if  she  would  try 
her  best  to  keep  the  cattle  in  the  meadows  so 
that  the  smoke-house  could  be  finished,  that 
very  day  her  birthday  would  be  changed  from 
December  to  June. 

As  soon  as  the  little  girl  reached  the  open 
prairie,  the  big  brothers  returned  to  their  work 
on  the  smoke-house.  And  by  the  time  that  the 
herd,  with  the  pinto  and  the  dogs  behind  it,  was 
but  a  collection  of  white  and  brown  specks 
against  the  green  of  the  plains,  they  were  so 
busy  that  they  had  forgotten  her.  The  young- 
est brother  lifted  the  sods  from  the  wagon  and 
handed  them  to  the  biggest,  who  helped  the 
eldest  lay  them,  one  layer  lengthwise,  the  next 
crosswise,  and  always  in  such  a  way  that  the 
middle  of  a  slab  came  directly  above  the  ends 
of  the  ones  beneath. 

In  the  early  afternoon,  as  they  worked  stead- 
ily, the  clouds  began  to  mass  darker  across  the 
gray  sky;  and  the  air,  warm  throughout  the 
morning,  became  chill.     A  rain-storm  seemed 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  39 

on  the  way,  and  the  big  brothers  hurried  so  as 
to  get  the  house  covered  before  a  shower  came 
to  wash  the  walls.  Two  were  left  to  lay  the 
sods,  and  the  other  set  about  sawing  scantlings 
into  lengths  for  the  framework  of  the  hip-roof, 
while  their  mother  came  out  and  bound  straw 
into  flat  bunches  for  the  thatch. 

Up  in  the  river  meadows,  the  little  girl,  se- 
cure in  her  seat  on  the  pinto,  rode  to  and  fro 
along  the  southern  edge  of  the  herd,  in  front 
of  the  lowered  foreheads  and  tossing  horns  of 
the  cattle.  Behind  her  came  the  blind  black 
colt,  switching  his  tail  and  whinnying  fretfully ; 
but,  despite  his  pleading,  the  little  girl,  eager  to 
win  the  reward  she  had  been  promised,  never 
paused  in  her  sentry  duty.  The  pinto  fretted, 
too,  for' she  also  was  hungry.  But  the  little 
girl  held  the  short  bridle-reins  tight  and  did  not 
let  the  mare  get  her  nose  to  the  ground  lest  they 
slip  over  her  head  and  out  of  reach. 

The  dogs  were  stretched  lazily  on  some  soft 
badger  mounds  not  far  away.  The  St.  Bernard 
was  not  with  them,  for  the  big  brothers  were 
afraid  that  Napoleon,  the  white  bull,  would 
gore  him,  and  had  chained  him  up  at  home ;  and 
the  collie  was  watching  the  sheep  around  the 
sloughs  to  the  south.  So  only  the  wolf-dogs, 
with  Luffree  at  their  head,  helped  the  little 
girl  turn  an  animal  back  when  it  broke  from 
the  rest  and  started  toward  the  grain. 


40      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  little  girl  rode  faithfully  before  the  herd, 
not  even  stopping  to  join  the  dogs  in  their  chase 
after  a  kit-fox  that  was  boldly  passing  among 
the  cattle.  And  when  the  hunt  was  over  and  the 
cows  went  down  the  runway  to  the  river,  she 
followed  in  their  train,  with  the  pinto  still  tug- 
ging hard  at  the  reins.  But  at  the  bank  she 
forgot  how  tired  her  arms  were,  for  the  pack 
had  returned  and  were  amusing  themselves  by 
barking  and  biting  at  the  snakes  that  were 
lying  along  the  strip  of  sand,  and  by  pursuing 
them  as  they  scattered  to  the  water  or  to  the 
shelter  of  the  willows  at  its  edge.  When  the 
herd  had  drunk  their  fill,  she  slowly  rode  east- 
ward, watching  them  carefully  as  they  spread 
out  across  the  meadow. 

It  was  then  that  the  clouds  came  up  and  the 
air  turned  cool.  And  it  was  then  that,  acci- 
dentally, and  in  one  unhappy  moment,  the  little 
girl  brought  all  her  faithful  work  to  naught,  im- 
periled her  birthday  hopes,  and  cast  herself 
adrift  upon  the  prairie  like  a  voyager  in  a  rud- 
derless boat.  For,  in  stooping  to  pull  the  sheep- 
skin saddle-blanket  over  her  bare  legs,  she  un- 
thinkingly let  go  of  the  bridle,  and,  the  pinto 
putting  her  head  down  to  graze,  the  short  reins 
slipped  along  her  mane  until  they  rested  just 
behind  her  ears— far  out  of  reach. 

The  little  girl  slapped  her  as  hard  as  she 
could  with  her  hands ;  but,  even  when  the  mare 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  41 

raised  her  head  and  walked  about,  tlie  little  girl 
could  not  get  at  the  reins  because  she  was 
tightly  fastened  to  the  girth.  So  the  pinto  went 
where  she  pleased,  paying  no  attention  to  angry 
commands,  or  to  the  pounding  inflicted  upon 
her  flanks  by  the  fists  of  the  irate  little  girl. 

All  this  time  the  herd,  too,  fed  where  it  chose 
and  had  moved  out  of  the  meadows  toward  the 
farm.  The  little  girl  was  powerless  to  turn  it, 
and  when  she  set  the  pack  at  the  cattle  they  only 
ran  faster  than  ever  toward  the  fields.  So  she 
called  the  dogs  off.  Slowly,  but  surely,  the  cows 
led  the  forbidden  way,  and  as  the  little  girl 
moved  about  on  the  pinto,  powerless  to  go 
where  she  wished  or  to  turn  them  back,  she 
watched  them,  swelling  with  very  rage  in  her 
helplessness,  and  wept  bitterly. 

When  the  herd  was  out  of  sight  over  the 
rise  south  of  the  meadow,  the  pinto,  with  her 
reluctant  rider,  again  went  riverward.  This 
time  the  mare  took  a  good  drink,  wading  in 
so  far  that  the  little  girl's  anger  turned  to  fear 
and  she  cried  harder  than  ever.  As  the  horse 
came  out  of  the  stream,  the  loud  yur,  yur,  of  a 
frightened  crow,  whose  nest  was  in  the  willow 
fringe,  startled  the  blind  black  colt,  and  he 
started  on  a  run  up  the  river.  His  mother, 
whinnying  loudly,  followed  him  and  broke  into 
such  a  hard  gallop  that  the  little  girl  was 
bounced  rudely  about  and  would  have  fallen  to 


42      BIOGRAPHY   OF  A   PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  ground  had  not  the  hame-straps  firmly  held 
her. 

Away  they  went,  the  colt  in  the  lead  and  the 
pinto  after,  until  they  reached  the  bunch  of  cot- 
tonwoods  far  up  the  stream  where  the  yanging 
wild  geese  had  their  nests.  Then  the  colt  came 
to  a  halt  and  waited  tremblingly  for  his  anxious 
mother. 

The  black  colt  had  a  wild  fear  of  crows,  for 
it  was  due  to  them  that  he  had  been  blind  ever 
since,  a  few  days  after  his  birth,  he  had  accom- 
panied his  mother  across  the  reservation  road 
to  the  sloughs  beyond.  He  had  trotted  happily 
at  her  side  as  they  went,  but  late  in  the  evening 
had  run  one  knobby  leg  into  a  hole  in  the  prai- 
rie-dog village  and  taken  a  bad  tumble.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  rise  again,  and,  in  strug- 
gling had  got  wedged  upon  his  back  between 
two  mounds,  so  that  he  had  to  lie,  feet  up,  all 
night.  His  mother  had  fed  near  him  till  dark 
came  on,  and  had  stood  over  him  through  the 
night ;  and  not  till  the  sun  was  well  up  did  she 
leave  him  to  go  for  water.  It  was  then  that 
he  had  been  blinded,  for  some  crows,  flying  by 
to  the  stubble-fields  around  the  farm-house,  had 
thought  him  dead  and  had  alighted  beside  him 
with  inquiring  cries. 

Now,  as  he  stood  in  the  cottonwoods  beside 
his  mother,  he  shook  his  head  uneasily  as  if  un- 
pleasant memories  were  stirring  in  his  baby 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  43 

brain,  and  stamped  crossly  as  the  dogs  came  up, 
their  tongues  out  with  their  hot  pursuit. 

Time  dragged  slowly.  Late  in  the  afternoon 
a  dash  of  rain  found  its  way  down  through  the 
Cottonwood  leaves,  splashed  against  the  little 
girPs  face,  and  mingled  with  the  tear-drops. 
The  pinto  moved  farther  into  the  shelter  of  the 
grove  and  the  light  sprinkle  did  not  wet  her. 
As  the  light  slowly  faded  the  peepers  along  the 
river  began  to  send  up  their  lonesome  chant, 
and  a  crow  went  whirring  past  to  his  home 
down  the  river,  with  no  cry  to  the  blind  black 
colt  underneath,  for  his  bill  was  thrust  through 
a  redhead  ^s  egg.  Near  by,  from  the  open  prai- 
rie, the  brown  pippets  flew  skyward  against  the 
rain-drops,  greeting  the  coming  night  with  a 
last  song,  and  then  dropped  silently  to  their 
nests  in  the  lush  grass. 

The  framework  of  the  smoke-house  roof  was 
in  its  place,  and  the  laying  of  the  straw  bundles, 
in  long,  overlapping  rows,  well  started  before 
the  shower  began;  and  so  rapidly  did  the  big 
brothers  work,  that  when  the  collie  came  in  with 
the  sheep,  the  thatching  was  nearly  finished, 
and  the  squatty,  straw-crowned  building,  with 
grass  and  flower  tops  sticking,  still  fresh,  from 
between  its  sods,  looked  like  one  of  the  chocolate 
layer-cakes  that  the  little  girl 's  mother  made  for 
Thanksgiving,  only  the  filling  was  green  in- 
stead of  brown,  and  the  top  coating  was  gold. 


44      BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

They  were  on  top  of  the  house,  laying  the 
last  two  rows  of  straw  along  the  ridge-pole, 
when  their  mother,  who  was  in  the  kitchen  get- 
ting supper,  noticed  that  it  was  sprinkling, 
looked  northward  through  the  gloom  to  try  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  little  girl  returning  with 
the  herd,  and  then  called  to  the  big  brothers  to 
ask  if  they  could  not  see  cattle  moving  about  in 
the  corn.  They  looked  and,  from  their  vantage- 
point,  made  out  a  big  herd.  Their  shout 
brought  their  mother  hurrying  into  the  yard. 

**They  're  not  ours,  are  theyT'  she  asked. 
But  the  big  brothers  were  bringing  the  wagon 
team  and  a  cultivator  horse  out  of  the  barn,  un- 
saddled and  unbridled,  and  did  not  hear.  Be- 
fore she  could  reach  them,  they  had  dashed  off. 

She  stood  looking  after  them,  her  apron  over 
her  head.  She  knew  that  if  the  cattle  in  the 
field  belonged  to  the  farm,  something  had  gone 
wrong  with  the  little  girl ;  and  she  strained  her 
eyes  anxiously  to  where  loud  bellows,  shouts, 
and  the  cracking  of  cattle-gads  told  that  the 
herd  was  being  routed. 

Suddenly,  from  across  the  intervening  corn 
and  sorghum  and  into  the  cottonwood  break, 
crashed  a  great  white  bulk,  whose  curly  head 
was  swaying  angrily  and  whose  eyes  shone  with 
the  lust  of  fight,  while  behind,  laying  about  him 
with  a  whip  at  every  jump,  came  the  biggest 
brother.    It  was  Napoleon. 


"LITTLE  BOY  BLUE'^  45 

*  ^  Oh,  my  poor  pet  lamb ! ' '  cried  the  little 
girPs  mother,  and  retreated  into  the  smoke- 
house for  safety  as  the  bull  and  his  pursuer 
came  by. 

It  took  hard  riding  to  rid  the  grain  of  the 
cattle,  for,  under  cover  of  the  dusk,  they 
slipped  back  into  the  wheat  again  and  again 
after  having  been  driven  out.  So  it  was  long 
after  supper-time  before  the  herd  was  bunched 
and  driven  around  the  farm  to  the  reservation 
road  and  into  the  wire  pen  by  way  of  the  ash 
lane  in  front  of  the  house.  Then  the  big  bro- 
thers came  tramping  into  the  kitchen,  tired  and 
hungry. 

But  what  was  their  surprise  to  find  it  empty. 
And,  on  looking  about,  they  discovered  a  note 
from  their  mother.  It  had  been  put  in  plain 
sight  against  the  syrup- jug  and  read : 

*^The  dogs,  all  except  Luffree,  came  home.  If 
she  has  returned  when  you  read  this,  fire  a 
musket/' 

They  stood  in  a  circle  and  looked  blankly  at 
one  another.  For  it  had  not  crossed  their  minds 
that  the  little  girl  was  not  home,  but  some- 
where out  on  the  prairie,  tied  to  a  pinto,  and  all 
alone  in  the  dark. 

Without  waiting  to  snatch  a  bite  from  the 
table,  they  started  off  to  search,  leaving  their 
jaded  horses  in  the  barn.  The  eldest  brother 
went  straight  for  the  river,  which  he  meant  to 


46      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

follow,  and  took  a  musket  with  him ;  the  young- 
est ran  off  up  the  path  between  the  corn  and  the 
wheat,  and  carried  the  cow-horn ;  while  the  big- 
gest made  for  the  camelian  bluff,  taking  neither 
gun  nor  horn,  but  relying  on  his  lungs  to  carry 
any  good  news  to  the  others.  And  behind 
them,  as  they  hurried,  sounded  the  baying  of 
the  St.  Bernard,  ignominiously  chained  to  a 
stake  by  the  kitchen  door. 

The  evening  wore  on.  Overhead  the  low- 
hanging  clouds  covered  the  moonless  sky  like  a 
hood,  and  not  a  star  shone  through  the  fleecy 
thickness  to  aid  in  the  search  for  the  little  girl. 
At  a  late  hour  it  began  to  sprinkle  again,  and, 
though  no  sound  of  shot  or  blast  had  broken  the 
silence  of  the  prairie,  one  by  one  the  anxious 
hunters  came  straggling  home,  dumbly  ate,  and 
waited  for  the  morning. 

The  little  girPs  mother,  sitting  behind  the 
stove,  cried  heartbrokenly.  '*If  my  poor  baby 
ever  comes  back  alive, '*  she  sobbed,  ^^she  shall 
have  her  birthday  in  June  and  the  best  present 
I  can  get  her. ' '  And  all  the  big  brothers  silently 
assented. 

But  while  they  were  gathered  thus,  drying 
their  damp  clothes,  the  biggest  brother  suddenly 
sprang  up  with  a  joyful  cry. 

^  ^  Why  did  n  't  we  think  of  it  before  f  he  said 
-^Hhe  St.  Bernard!^' 

A  moment  later  he  was  freeing  the  big  dog, 


'^ LITTLE  BOY  BLUE"  47 

and  his  mother,  lantern  in  hand,  was  holding  a 
little  gingham  dress  against  his  muzzle. 

**Find  her!  Find  her!''  she  commanded. 
^'Go,  go!    Find  her!'' 

The  St.  Bernard  shook  himself  free  of  the 
chain  that  had  bound  him,  looked  into  the  faces 
that  peered  at  him  through  the  dim  lantern- 
light,  and  then,  giving  a  long  sniff,  proud,  hu- 
man, and  contemptuous,  walked  slowly  and  ma- 
jestically toward  the  sod  barn.  The  family 
followed  wonderingly. 

"When  the  corn-cribs  were  reached,  the  dog 
quickened  his  pace  to  a  trot  and  began  to  wave 
his  big,  bushy  tail  in  friendly  greeting  to  some- 
thing that,  farther  on  in  the  dark,  could  not  be 
seen  by  the  little  girl's  mother  and  the  big 
brothers.  And  when  he  came  near  the  wide, 
closed  door  of  the  bam,  in  front  of  which 
showed  indistinctly  the  forms  of  a  large  and  a 
small  animal,  he  leaped  forward  with  a  welcom- 
ing bark  that  was  answered  by  another  from  a 
dog  lying  in  the  deep  shadow  against  the  door. 

For  there  stood  the  blind  black  colt  and  the 
pinto  with  the  bridle-reins  still  swinging  across 
her  neck.  And  on  her  back  lay  the  little  girl, 
her  arms  hanging  down  on  either  side  of  the 
sheepskin  saddle-blanket,  her  head  pillowed 
in  sleep  against  her  horse 's  mane. 


^-^  i 


IV 

A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES 

THE  young  cowbird,  perched  tail  to  wind- 
ward on  a  stone  beside  the  road,  raised 
his  head,  and  uttered  a  hoarse  cry  of  hunger  and 
lonesomeness  as  a  great  black  flock  of  his  own 
kind,  sweeping  by  on  its  way  to  the  grazing 
herd  in  the  gully,  shadowed  the  ground  about 
him  for  an  instant. 

** Look-see!  look-see!''  he  called  plaintively, 
rolling  his  eyes  and  ruffling  his  throat;  *Uook- 
see!  look-see!'* 

But  the  flock,  dipping  and  rising  in  swift 
flight,  sped  on  unheeding.  The  long  summer 
day  was  drawing  to  a  close  over  the  prairie,  and 
with  early  evening  myriads  of  gnats  and  mos- 
quitos  swarmed  up  from  the  sloughs  to  drink 
their  fill  on  the  flanks  of  the  stamping  cows. 
The  insects  offered  a  fat  supper  to  the  birds  as 
they  clung  to  the  twitching  hides  of  the  cattle. 
So  the  flock  was  hastening  to  reach  the  gully  be- 
fore milking-time. 

The  young  cowbird  called  disconsolately 
again  and  again  after  the  shadow  of  the  flock 

48 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES         49 

was  far  away,  making  a  moving  blot  across 
the  darkening  plains.  Then,  discouraged,  he 
tucked  his  head  under  his  wing,  clutched  the 
stone  more  tightly  with  his  claws,  and  rocked 
gently  back  and  forth  as  the  soft  south  breeze 
spread  his  tail,  lifted  his  growing  pinions,  and 
blew  his  new  feathers  on  end. 

He  was  a  tramp  and  the  descendant  of  a  long 
line  of  tramps,  all  as  black  and  hoarse  and 
homeless  as  himself.  A  vagabond  of  the  black- 
bird world,  he  had,  like  many  an  unfeathered 
exile,  only  sleep  to  make  him  forget  his  empty 
craw,  and  only  a  wayside  rock  for  his  resting- 
place. 

He  had  been  an  outcast  from  the  beginning. 
One  day  in  the  spring  his  tramp  mother,  too 
shiftless  to  build  a  home  for  herself,  had  come 
peeping  and  spying  about  the  fuzzy  nest  of 
some  yellow  warblers  that  had  built  in  an  elder- 
bush  by  the  river ;  and  finding  the  birds  away, 
had  laid  a  big  white  egg  speckled  with  brown 
in  the  midst  of  four  dainty  pale-blue  ones  that 
were  wreathed  with  tiny  dots.  Then  she  had 
slipped  away  as  quickly  as  possible,  abandon- 
ing her  own  to  the  more  tender  mercies  of  the 
little  canary  pair. 

It  was  the  warblers'  first  nesting,  or  they 
would  have  known,  the  moment  they  saw  the 
large  egg  among  their  small  ones,  that  they  had 
been  imposed   upon,   and  would   either  have 


50      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

pushed  the  interloper  out  or  built  a  second  story 
to  their  home,  and  left  the  cowbird's  egg  in  the 
basement.  But  they  were  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced, so  they  had  only  wondered  a  little  at 
the  size  and  color  of  their  last  lay,  and  let  it 
remain. 

The  weeks  had  passed.  Then,  one  day,  there 
had  been  a  great  chattering  about  the  warm 
cup  of  milkweed  fiber  and  thistle-down  in  the 
elder-bush,  husky  cheeping  from  the  nest  min- 
gling with  the  joyous  chirps  of  the  mother-bird 
as  she  tilted  and  danced  on  its  edge  or  fluttered 
ecstatically  above  it;  and  from  the  end  of  a 
swaying  twig  close  by  had  swelled  the  proud 
song  of  the  male. 

The  big  egg  had  hatched. 

When  the  first  nestling  had  freed  himself 
from  his  shell  and  tried  his  long,  wabbly  legs, 
he  opened  a  wide-gaping,  clamorous  red  mouth 
above  his  naked  little  body ;  and  this  set  the  yel- 
lowbirds  on  such  persistent  and  successful 
searches  after  worms,  that  by  the  time  the 
young  cowbird's  foster  brothers  and  sisters 
were  out,  he  had  grown  big  and  strong.  So  the 
newer  babies  had  been  squeezed  from  the  cozy 
center  of  their  warm  home  to  a  place  on  its 
chilly  rim. 

Affairs  in  the  nest  had  soon  come  to  a  sad 
pass.  The  little  warblers^  weak  voices  and 
short  necks  were  not  able  to^wwrthe  reward  of 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES  51 

tidbits  claimed  by  the  young  cowbird,  who  ruth- 
lessly stood  upon  them  as  he  snatched  his  food 
from  the  bills  of  the  yellowbirds.  One  by  one 
they  sickened  and  died,  and  were  then  pushed 
out  into  the  wet  grass  below.  After  that  the 
young  cowbird  had  been  fed  faster  and  more 
fondly  than  ever. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  warblers  were  away 
foraging  for  the  nest,  the  cowbird,  now  well 
feathered,  had  tried  his  wings  a  little,  and  had 
flown  to  a  clump  of  tall  weeds  not  far  off. 
Alighting  safely,  and  emboldened  by  success, 
he  had  eluded  a  hungry  snake  that  hunted  him 
across  the  gopher  knolls,  and  finally  gone  on  to 
the  top  of  the  hill.  When  twilight  came  he  had 
found  a  perch  in  a  pile  of  tumbleweed,  far  from 
the  sheltering  bushes  by  the  river.  So  the  war- 
blers, coming  home  late  with  two  long  wrigglers 
for  him,  had  found  the  nest  empty.  They  had 
darted  anxiously  about  it  for  a  while,  then  the 
male  had  settled  upon  a  swinging  elder-branch 
to  sing  a  mournful  song  to  his  mute,  grief- 
stricken  mate. 

Their  last  baby  was  gone. 

When  the  little  girl  came  trudging  along  the 
road  that  evening  on  her  way  to  the  farm-house, 
she  sat  down  for  a  moment  opposite  the  stone 
on  which  the  cowbird  was  perched.  And  after 
examining  a  sand  cut  that  was  giving  her  some 


52      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

trouble  under  her  little  toe,  she  suddenly  caught 
sight  of  the  dumpy  black  ball  that  was  moving 
back  and  forth  with  every  gust.  She  leaned 
forward  on  her  knees  to  see  what  it  was,  and 
crept  slowly  toward  him  until  she  was  within 
reach.  Then,  before  he  had  time  to  take  his 
head  from  under  his  wing,  she  put  out  one 
hand  and  seized  him. 

He  was  terribly  frightened  and  struggled  to 
get  free,  pushing  vigorously  against  her  fingers 
with  wings  and  claws.  But  she  only  tightened 
her  grasp  as  he  fought,  and  he  was  soon  so 
closely  held  that  he  could  not  move.  She  forgot 
her  sore  toe  in  her  happiness  over  catching  him, 
and  started  homeward  on  the  run.  As  she 
bounded  along,  he  watched  her  with  his  small, 
scared  eyes. 

On  reaching  the  farm-house  the  little  girl  put 
him  into  a  rough  slat  cage  that  hung  in  her 
room ;  and  while  he  stretched  his  cramped  legs, 
and  opened  his  crumpled  wings,  she  hurried  to 
the  window,  where  she  captured  a  handful  of 
house-flies.  She  placed  them  in  front  of  him, 
and  he  retreated  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the 
cage,  to  beat  the  bars  in  terror.  But  after  she 
had  hidden  herself  behind  the  headboard  of  the 
bed,  he  came  forward  and  ate  up  the  flies  with- 
out stopping  to  take  a  breath  between  gulps. 
Then  he  snuggled  down  on  a  piece  of  her  worn- 
out  woolen  dress,  and  went  to  sleep  again. 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES  53 

Though  the  little  girl  was  yet  only  five  and 
a  half  years  old,  she  had  tried  many  times  in  her 
life,  without  success,  to  make  the  slat  cage  the 
home  of  some  feathery  pet.  Snipes  and  plover, 
orioles  and  ovenbirds,  bobolinks  and  meadow- 
larks,  all  had  lived  in  it  by  turns  for  a  few  days. 
But  the  snipes  and  plover  had  gone  into  a  de- 
cline, the  orioles  and  ovenbirds  had  grown  thin 
and  unkempt,  and  the  bobolinks  and  meadow- 
larks  had  eaten  themselves  to  death.  Sorrowful 
over  so  much  misfortune,  she  had  longed  to 
secure  a  hardy  bird  that  would  not  only  live  in 
captivity,  but  would  repay  her  loving  care  with 
songs. 

The  young  cowbird  proved  to  be  just  what 
she  had  wanted.  Every  day  he  grew  larger, 
plumper,  and  hungrier;  and  though  he  was  not 
a  song-bird,  his  attempts  at  melody,  made  with 
much  choking  and  wheezing  and  many  wry 
faces,— as  if  the  countless  flies  he  had  swallowed 
were  sticking  in  his  throat,— pleased  her  more 
than  carols.  Within  a  week  after  his  capture  he 
was  so  tame  that  he  would  sit  on  her  shoulder 
as  she  walked  about  her  room  and  peck  at  her 
teeth.  She  was  certain  that  he  was  giving  her 
so  many  loving  kisses ;  but  her  big  brothers  un- 
sympathetically  explained  that  he  thought  she 
had  some  kernels  of  com  between  her  lips. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  allowed  the 
freedom  of  the  sitting-room  a  little  while  every 


54      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

afternoon,  and  the  little  girl  always  sat  and 
watched  him  as  he  walked  solemnly  about  it, 
taking  long  steps,  calling  happily  in  his  husky 
voice,  and  pecking  curiously  at  the  bright  rags 
in  the  crocheted  rug. 

This  freedom  worked  wonders  with  his  plu- 
mage. His  dark  brown  head  fairly  shone,  his 
sable  breast  and  back  grew  glossy,  and  his 
wings  took  on  faint,  changing  tints  of  purple 
and  blue.  His  jet  rudder,  daily  dressed  to  its 
iridescent  tip  by  his  ebony  beak,  was  flicked 
jauntily  as  he  strode  around  on  his  long  black 
legs.  And  all  this  alert,  engaging  beauty  won 
the  friendship  of  the  farm-house,  including 
even  that  of  the  little  girPs  big  brothers,  who 
advised  her  to  clip  his  wings  if  she  wanted  to 
keep  him;  for  when  he  had  once  reached  full 
size,  they  said,  he  would  fly  away  to  join  the 
cowbird  colonies  up  the  river.  But  the  little 
girl  would  never  consent  to  any  use  of  the 
scissors. 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  summer  he 
went  everywhere  with  her,  perching  on  her 
shoulder  when  she  drove  the  cattle  to  the  mea- 
dows, riding  with  her  on  the  pinto  if  she 
were  sent  on  an  errand,  or  walking  beside  her 
in  the  farm-yard.  He  never  flew  far  from  her, 
and  could  always  be  coaxed  back  if  she  whistled 
and  showed  her  teeth.  They  spent  many  an  af- 
ternoon together  on  the  prairie  while  the  little 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES         55 

girl  herded.  And  when  the  cows  were  headed 
away  from  the  wheat  and  were  grazing  quietly, 
he  would  leave  her  and  fly  to  the  back  of  Li- 
ney,  the  muley,  where  he  would  walk  up  and 
down  the  broad,  white  mark  that  ran  from  her 
horns  to  her  tail,  and  catch  insects.  Liney,  who 
liked  the  sharp  thrust  of  his  bill  where  a  mos- 
quito had  been  stinging,  was  careful  not  to 
wiggle  her  hide  and  scare  him  away.  At  din- 
ner-time he  joined  the  little  girl  and  shared  her 
gingerbread. 

One  night,  just  before  the  cows  started  for  the 
milking-pen,  a  big  flock  of  cowbirds  flew  down 
and  alighted  in  the  midst  of  them,  some  of  the 
birds  perching  upon  the  backs  of  the  cattle  to 
catch  their  supper.  When  the  little  girl  saw  the 
black  company,  she  looked  around  for  her  bird, 
but  could  not  tell  him  from  the  others.  There 
were  three  perched  upon  Liney 's  back,  and, 
hoping  that  one  of  them  was  he,  she  ran  toward 
the  cow,  calling  softly  and  showing  her  teeth. 
But  as  she  came  close,  the  three  flew  away  to  the 
roan  heifer.  Half  weeping,  she  ran  after  them, 
calling  still,  and  smiling  to  entice  him.  The 
birds  rose  into  the  air  again,  this  time  alight- 
ing around  the  farthest  cow  in  the  herd. 

Overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  the  little  girl 
turned  back  to  where  the  cattle-gad  lay,  holding 
her  apron  up  to  her  wet  eyes  as  she  stumbled 
miserably  along.    But  just  as  she  flung  herself 


56      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

down  beside  the  whip,. there  came  a  harsh  call 
from  behind  her,  where  the  lunch-pail  stood. 
It  was  the  cowbird. 

** Look-see!  look-see !''  he  cried,  pecking  at 
the  brown  paper  that  held  the  gingerbread. 
Jumping  up,  the  little  girl  ran  to  him  and 
caught  him  tenderly  to  her  breast. 

He  was  so  inquisitive  that  he  soon  became  un- 
popular at  the  farm-house,  and  on  several  occa- 
sions all  but  had  his  neck  wrung  for  wrong- 
doing. One  day  he  picked  the  eldest  brother's 
fiddle-strings  in  two ;  another  time  he  was  dis- 
covered digging  holes  in  the  newly  baked  loaves 
of  bread  that  had  been  set  in  a  window  to  cool ; 
and,  again,  he  stole  hot  potatoes  out  of  a  kettle 
on  the  kitchen  stove.  But  whenever  danger 
threatened,  the  little  girl  championed  him  val- 
iantly. So  time  after  time  he  escaped  merited 
punishment,  which  was  to  have  been  not  less 
than  death  or  exile;  for  he  was  too  small  to 
whip. 

But  one  morning  in  the  early  fall  he  was  con- 
fronted with  a  very  grave  charge— one  that  was, 
if  proved  true,  to  cost  him  his  life  or  his  home : 
the  little  girPs  mother,  on  going  into  the  kitchen 
at  sunrise  to  prepare  breakfast,  discovered  all 
her  crocks  of  milk  disturbed  and  the  shelf  be- 
hind the  stove,  on  which  they  stood  in  a  long, 
yellow  row,  spattered  with  milk  from  end  to 
end.    As  she  turned,  very  puzzled,  from  the 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES         57 

shelf  to  the  table,  she  saw  the  cowbird  gravely 
walking  about  on  the  white  oil-cloth. 

*  *  Look-see !  look-see ! ' '  he  cried  to  her,  flirting 
his  tail  and  blinking  his  eyes.  ^^  Look-see  I 
look-see !  * ' 

She  ran  to  the  table  and  seized  him  angrily 
in  her  hands,  certain  that  he  had  forsaken  his 
own  little  pan  of  water  to  bathe  in  the  milk. 
But  when  she  had  looked  him  over  carefully, 
and  found  him  dry  and  tidy  from  top  to  toe,  she 
let  him  go  again,  forgetting  to  feel  of  the  white 
oil-cloth  upon  which  he  had  been  promenading, 
and  which  was  spattered  with  milk  like  the 
shelf. 

Before  the  contents  of  the  crocks  were  thrown 
out  that  morning,  the  little  girPs  mother  called 
all  of  the  big  brothers  in  to  view  the  mess ;  and 
by  the  time  breakfast  was  over,  the  cowbird  had 
been  passed  around,  for  every  one  wanted  to  see 
if  any  milk  could  be  found  on  him.  None  was 
discovered,  however,  so  the  little  girl  was  al- 
lowed to  carry  him  away  in  triumph  on  her 
shoulder. 

For  two  or  three  mornings  after  that  the  milk 
was  not  visited  by  the  marauder.  Then  for  sev- 
eral days  in  succession  it  was  splashed  about 
on  shelf,  stove,  and  floor,  and  the  little  girPs 
mother  was  more  puzzled  than  ever.  The  cow- 
bird was  no  longer  under  suspicion,  for  the  big 
brothers  had  not  been  able  to  fasten  the  guilt 


58      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

upon  him,  since  his  feathers  were  always  as 
sleek  and  shining  as  the  coat  of  a  curried  horse. 

It  was  decided  to  poison  a  part  of  the  milk  for 
several  nights  and  put  the  rest  carefully  in  the 
cupboard.  This  was  done ;  but  though  morning 
after  morning  the  shelf  was  sprinkled  as  badly 
as  ever,  no  dead  body  of  cat,  bird,  or  wild  ani- 
mal was  ever  found  in  the  kitchen  to  solve  the 
mystery.  So  a  new  plan  was  adopted,  and  tin 
pans  were  put  upside  down  over  the  crocks  to 
keep  the  nightly  visitor  out. 

This  arrangement  worked  well  for  a  week  or 
more;  then  one  morning  there  was  a  terrific 
rattling  and  banging  in  the  kitchen,  followed 
by  deathly  stillness.  Certain  that  the  disturber 
of  the  milk  was  at  hand,  the  entire  family 
rushed  pell-mell  through  the  sitting-room  and 
down  the  entry  to  the  kitchen  door,  which  they 
flung  wide  open,  and  excitedly  peered  in.  On 
the  floor  lay  a  tin  pan  that  had  been  knocked 
from  its  place,  and  in  one  side  of  it  was  a  large 
dent  where  it  had  struck  the  stove  in  falling. 
The  milk  in  the  uncovered  vessel  was  not  dis- 
turbed, and  there  was  no  sign  of  any  living 
thing  in  the  room. 

Baffled  and  wondering,  they  returned  to  their 
beds.  But  the  little  girl,  before  going  back  to 
hers,  remained  behind  a  moment  to  look  for  the 
cowbird.  At  last  she  spied  him,  perched  high 
up  on  the  elbow  of  the  stovepipe.     He  was 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES         59 

trembling  violently,  and  his  glossy,  black  fea- 
thers were  standing  out— straight  on  end. 

The  neighbor  woman,  who  dropped  in  that 
noon,  made  a  suggestion  that  the  big  brothers 
decided  to  act  upon.  She  declared  that  the 
kitchen  visitor  was  a  milk-snake,  and  that  one 
night  spent  on  the  watch  without  a  light  would 
prove  her  correct.  So  that  very  evening,  the 
eldest  brother,  wrapped  in  a  buffalo  robe 
and  a  pair  of  blankets,  sat  on  a  bench  be- 
hind the  kitchen  door,  resolved  to  keep  awake 
till  morning  in  wait  for  the  mysterious  dis- 
turber. The  rest  of  the  family  prepared  for 
bed,  after  providing  him  with  the  musket,  pow- 
der and  buck-shot,  and  the  clothes-stick ;  and  on 
looking  in  upon  him  before  retiring,  found  him 
sitting  grimly  in  his  corner,  the  musket  leaning 
against  one  shoulder,  while  upon  the  other 
perched  the  cowbird. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  next  day  when  the  lit- 
tle girPs  mother  awoke.  She  was  surprised  at 
not  having  been  aroused  earlier  by  the  noise  of 
an  encounter,  and,  accompanied  by  the  little 
girl  and  the  other  big  brothers,  tiptoed  quickly 
but  softly  down  the  entry  to  listen.  All  was 
quiet.  She  pushed  the  kitchen  door  open  a  lit- 
tle to  look  at  the  crocks.  They  had  not  been  mo- 
lested. Then  she  put  her  head  in.  As  she  did 
so,  the  husky  cry  of  the  cowbird  came  from  the 
bench  behind  the  door. 


60      BIOGRAPHY  OP  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

*^ Look-see!  look-see!''  he  called,  as  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  eldest  brother  from 
head  to  foot ;  ^  ^  look-see !  look-see ! ' ' 

And  the  family,  entering,  beheld  the  eldest 
brother  stretched  upon  the  bench— fast  asleep. 

He  was  so  provoked  at  having  been  found 
napping  that,  when  he  heard  their  laughter  and 
awoke,  he  grabbed  the  cowbird  and  threw  him 
across  the  kitchen.  The  cowbird  lighted  upon 
his  feet  unhurt,  and  started  boldly  back  again. 
But  the  little  girl  was  frightened  over  his  bad 
treatment,  and  running  to  him,  took  him  up  ten- 
derly, and  carried  him  to  her  room.  He  was 
put  into  the  slat  cage  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
for  several  weeks  after  that  slept  in  it  every 
night. 

It  was  now  autumn.  The  husked  corn  filled 
the  cribs  to  bursting,  the  wheat  lay  in  yellow 
heaps  on  the  granary  floor,  and  the  hay,  stacked 
high,  stood  along  the  north  side  of  the  low,  sod 
barn  in  a  sheltering  crescent.  There  was  little 
left  to  do  on  the  farm  before  the  winter  set  in, 
and  the  cold  mornings  found  the  family  astir 
very  late.  So  one  raw  day,  when  the  fields  and 
prairie  without  lay  white  in  a  covering  of  thick 
frost,  it  was  after  sun-up  before  the  little  girPs 
mother  entered  the  kitchen. 

It  had  been  so  long  since  the  milk  had  been 
disturbed  that  she  had  neglected  for  a  week  or 
more  to  cover  the  crocks,  and  did  not  even  give 


A  PARIAH  OF  THE  PRAIRIES  61 

the  shelf  a  glance  as  she  hurriedly  lighted  a 
twist  of  hay ;  but  as  she  stooped  to  poke  it  into 
the  stove,  a  quavering,  plaintive,  raspy  voice 
above  her  made  her  start  back  and  stare  up- 
ward. 

There  on  the  edge  stood  the  cowbird,  his  head 
drooping  and  his  wings  half  spread.  But  he 
was  no  longer  black.  From  his  crown  to  his 
legs  he  was  covered  with  a  coating  of  frozen 
milk  that,  hiding  his  glossy  plumage,  turned 
him  into  a  woefully  bedraggled  white  bird; 
while  from  the  ends  of  his  once  glistening  tail 
feathers  hung  little  icicles  that  formed  an  icy 
fringe. 

*^ Look-see!  look-see!*'  he  mourned,  closing 
his  eyes  and  lifting  one  stiff  leg  from  his  perch. 
*  *  Look-see !  look-see ! ' ' 

A  moment  later,  hearing  the  sound  of  loud 
laughter  in  the  kitchen,  the  little  girl  got  out  of 
bed  and  ran  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter. 
But  when  she  caught  sight  of  the  cowbird  on  the 
shelf  before  the  row  of  big  brothers,  she  did 
not  join  in  the  merriment.  Instead,  she  turned 
very  white  and  crept  back  to  bed  again  with- 
out a  word,  taking  the  cowbird  with  her,  cud- 
dled under  her  arm. 

When  the  sun  stood  over  the  farm-house  and 
the  frost  was  gone  from  the  plains,  the  little  girl 
climbed  upon  her  pony's  back  and,  with  the 


62      BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

cowbird  perched  on  her  shoulder,  started  north- 
ward up  the  river.  Her  face  was  whiter  than  it 
had  been  that  morning,  and  she  had  no  happy 
chatter  with  which  to  answer  him  as  he  chir- 
ruped to  her  gaily  and  leaned  forward  from 
time  to  time  to  peck  at  her  teeth.  Her  ears  were 
still  ringing  with  her  big  brothers'  laughter, 
and  with  the  pitiless  command  that  had  driven 
the  cowbird  forth  to  the  prairies  again— a  wing- 
clipped  tramp  and  an  outcast !  Straight  on  she 
rode  to  the  river  meadows  where  the  cowbird 
colonies  lived. 

Once  there,  she  got  down  carefully  from  her 
horse  and,  after  placing  her  pet  gently  upon 
a  stone,  took  from  her  pockets  a  crust,  part  of 
a  shriveled  apple,  a  chunk  of  gingerbread,  and 
a  cold  boiled  potato.  These  she  placed  in 
front  of  him  on  the  ground.  Then  she  took 
him  up,  parted  her  lips  to  let  him  peck  her 
teeth  once  more,  held  him  against  her  breast 
for  a  long,  bitterly  sad  moment,  and  mounting, 
rode  away. 

When  she  was  only  a  rod  or  so  from  him,  the 
cowbird  tried  to  follow.  But  his  maimed  wings 
would  not  obey,  and  he  fell  back  to  the  ground 
again  and  again.  Then  he  walked  a  few  steps 
after  the  retreating  pony,  and,  finding  that  the 
little  girl  was  getting  farther  and  farther  away 
every  moment,  hopped  upon  a  big  rock  beside 
the  road,  and  called  after  her  pleadingly. 


A  PARIAH   OF  THE  PRAIRIES  63 

** Look-see!  look-see!''  he  cried,  rolling  his 
eyes  and  swelling  his  shining  throat ; '  ^  look-see ! 
look-see ! ' ' 

But  the  little  girl  rode  straight  on,  and  never 
looked  back  to  see. 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR 

IT  was  only  a  little  way  to  tlie  school-house 
in  the  winter-time  because  the  big  brothers 
could  cross  the  chain  of  sloughs  to  it  on  their 
skates;  but,  in  the  autumn,  before  the  ice  was 
thick,  the  path  led  snake-like  beside  the  eastern 
border  of  the  water,  just  skirting  the  frill  of 
green  bulrushes  and  tall  marsh-grass,  and  it 
was  a  long  distance. 

The  school-house  stood  in  a  wide  glade  that 
was  the  favorite  grazing-spot  of  a  band  of 
antelope.  It  was  narrow  and  unpainted,  with 
two  windows  on  each  side  and  a  door  in  one 
end.  And  from  its  roof,  which  was  not  too 
high  for  a  game  of  ^  ^  anti-I-over, ' '  protruded 
a  joint  of  rusty  stovepipe.  During  spring  and 
summer  the  building  stood  empty,  with  the 
whole  sloping  green  place  to  itself  and  the 
pronghorns,  and  in  every  high  wind  it  toppled 
over,  with  its  pipe  pointing  to  the  east,  until 
it  was  pried  into  place  again.  But,  after  school 
**took  up''  in  the  fall,  the  glade  rang  with 
the  laughter  and  shouts  of  the  scholars,  and  the 

64 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  65 

antelope  crossed  the  Vermillion  and  traveled 
to  the  rugged  country  farther  west,  where, 
when  the  snow  fell  and  hid  the  dried  grass, 
they  could  browse  off  the  bushes;  and  the 
school-house  did  not  topple  any  more,  for  its 
deep  coal-bins,  which  were  built  against  the 
wall  by  the  door,  were  full  to  the  brim. 

Often  on  warm  summer  afternoons,  the  little 
girl  rode  down  to  the  glade  beyond  the  sloughs 
and,  sitting  her  horse  quietly,  induced  a  tawny 
doe  and  her  twin  kids  to  approach  by  ex- 
citing their  curiosity  with  her  bright  red  flannel 
petticoat.  But  if  she  took  the  herd  along,  she 
did  not  dare  display  her  skirt,  for  Napoleon 
did  not  like  it  and  had,  on  one  occasion, 
viciously  gored  the  Indian  pony  in  the  ribs 
when  the  little  girl  was  busy  coaxing  the  deer. 
After  a  wind-storm  she  liked  to  climb  from  her 
pony  to  the  overturned  school-house  and  walk 
about  on  it.  Once,  she  slipped  on  a  window- 
pane,  when  she  was  peering  in,  and  fell 
through;  and  would  have  had  to  remain  there 
a  long  time  (for  the  door  was  locked),  if  she 
had  not  thought  to  pull  the  joint  of  stovepipe 
out  of  the  roof  and  crawl  through  the  hole 
to  freedom. 

But  she  had  never  been  near  the  building 
when  the  teacher  was  in  charge.  She  did  not 
want  to  go  to  school,  because  she  meant  to  learn 
her  lessons  at  home  the  way  her  mother  had,— 


66      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

and  her  mother  had  been  taught  by  her  mother, 
and,  after  that,  by  a  governess.  The  little  girl 
had  never  talked  the  matter  over  at  the  farm- 
house, however,  for  she  never  doubted  that  the 
governess,  whatever  that  was,  would  come  all 
in  good  time. 

So  her  surprise  and  grief  were  great  when 
she  heard  one  day  that  she  was  to  learn  her 
lessons  from  the  lanky  Yankton  man  who 
presided  over  the  school,  and  along  with  the 
other  little  girls  who  lived  near  enough  to  at- 
tend. She  held  one  tearful  argument  after  an- 
other with  the  eldest  brother,  declaring  that  she 
could  read  and  study  at  home.  But  he  said 
that  a  young  one  nearly  six  years  old  ought  to 
know  something  more  than  stories— some- 
thing about  the  world  and  arithmetic. 

Secretly  the  little  girl  did  not  think  it  was 
of  any  use  going  to  school,  for  she  believed 
the  teacher  did  not  know  much.  She  had  even 
heard  the  biggest  brother  say  so.  And  she 
knew  that  she  knew  a  great  deal.  As  soon 
as  she  could  eat  with  a  spoon,  she  had  begun 
to  hold  the  almanac  up  in  front  of  her ;  and  she 
had  spoken  her  first  word  at  fourteen  months. 
It  was  **Man,''  and  her  mother  often  related 
how  it  happened. 

She  was  rocking  the  little  girl  to  sleep,  she 
said,  and  singing, 

"  There  was  a  little  man, 
And  he  had  a  little  gun," 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  67 

when  there  sounded  a  small  voice  from  the 
cradle.  **Man/'  it  said,  and  the  little  girPs 
mother,  peeking  over  the  side,  saw  two  wide- 
open  blue  eyes.  After  that,  when  she  was 
being  rocked  to  sleep,  the  little  girl  always  said, 
**Man.''  Three  months  later,  she  had  begun 
to  talk  in  whole  sentences.  At  three  years  she 
had  been  able  to  make  all  her  letters  and 
read  several  words,  having  been  taught  secretly 
by  the  biggest  brother.  At  four,  she  knew  the 
youngest  brother's  reading  lessons  by  heart, 
and  could  spell  every  word  in  the  First  Reader. 
At  this  stage  of  her  education,  she  put  aside  such 
baby  things  as  the  ** Mother  Goose  Rhymes,'' 
and  was  deeply  interested  in  the  doings  of  the 
** Swiss  Family  Robinson."  Winter  nights, 
she  had  listened  to  an  ever  increasing  number 
of  stories  that  were  read  aloud  by  her  mother. 
And  now  she  was  occupied  with  ^* Gulliver." 
But  she  did  not  know  one  of  her  multiplication 
tables,  and  the  neighbor  woman,  for  one,  was 
greatly  disgusted  with  her,  and  declared  that 
she  did  not  know  whatever  would  become  of 
the  child. 

The  morning  the  little  girl  started  to  school, 
with  her  Second  Reader  under  one  arm,  it 
was  so  cold  that  her  breath  looked  like  puifs 
of  white  steam.  Her  mother  thought  she  had 
better  walk  instead  of  ride,  and  bundled  her 
up  warmly  in  a  big  plaid  shawl,  her  beaver 
cap,  and  her  thick  mittens.    When  she  set  off, 


68      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

she  was  accompanied  by  the  youngest  brother, 
who  was  going  to  be  a  visitor  during  the  morn- 
ing session.  The  dogs,  with  the  exception  of 
Luffree  (who  could  not  be  found),  had  beeu 
chained  up  along  the  sunny  side  of  the  house 
to  keep  them  from  following  her.  And  as  they 
saw  her  disappearing  across  the  reservation 
road,  they  jumped  back  and  forth,  pulling  at 
their  collars  and  howling  dismally. 

The  little  girl  did  not  look  around  at  them. 
Her  heart  was  heavy.  All  the  unhappiness  that 
had  been  visited  upon  her  that  autumn  weighed 
it  down.  Every  day,  before  sunrise,  she  had 
had  to  get  up  and  eat  a  raw  carrot,  because  the 
neighbor  woman  had  prescribed  it  as  a  cure 
for  a  certain  livid  spot  that  had  made  its  ap- 
pearance on  the  little  girPs  cheek,  and  was 
thought  to  be  a  cancer.  The  little  girl  knew  that 
the  carrot-eating  was  useless,  since  the  spot 
was  only  the  mark  of  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
at  tattooing;  but  she  did  not  care  to  explain. 
Then,  the  cow-bird  had  been  sent  away;  and, 
as  a  last  blow,  she  had  been  told  to  go  to  school. 

There  was  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  her 
misfortunes  were  due  wholly  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  precisely  thirteen  freckles  on  her  pink 
nose.  She  had  never  been  able  to  count  them 
because,  when  she  had  covered  ten  of  the  tiny 
brown  spots  with  as  many  fingers,  so  much  of 
her  nose  was  hidden  that  she  could  count  no 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  69 

further.  But  the  biggest  brother  had  assured 
her  that  she  had  them,  and  that  was  enough. 

She  was  very  tired  when  they  caine  in  sight 
of  the  school-house,  and  the  youngest  brother 
had  to  tug  her  along  by  the  hand.  Luffree,  who 
had  come  in  sight  over  a  hillock  ahead  of  them 
when  they  were  part  way,  trotted  at  her  heels 
and  looked  up  wistfully  at  her  as  she  half 
walked,  half  ran,  complaining  at  every  step. 
Now  and  then  he  jumped  up  and  tried  to  lick 
her  face  sympathetically.  But  she  would  not  let 
him,  for  she  knew  he  had  warts  on  his  muzzle 
that  he  had  caught  the  summer  before  while 
teasing  a  toad. 

The  school-room  was  full  of  smoke  and  noise 
when  they  entered.  The  scholars  were  laugh- 
ing and  talking  as  they  crowded  about  the 
tall,  round  stove;  and  it  was  sending  black, 
sooty  breath  into  their  faces  from  every  crevice 
of  its  loosely  hung  doors.  But  shortly  after- 
ward the  noise  was  silenced  by  the  teacher,  who 
brought  his  hands  together  with  a  resounding 
clap. 

All  the  pupils  in  the  room,  except  the  little 
girl,  had  been  to  school  to  him  the  year  before 
and  knew  what  the  signal  meant.  So  she  sud- 
denly found  herself  the  only  one  left  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  the  girls  having  pre- 
empted the  row  of  benches  on  the  right,  and 
the  boys  that  on  the  left.     But  she  was  not 


70      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

abashed,  and  her  corkscrew  curls  danced  on  her 
shoulders  as  she  looked  about. 

**Sit  down,  sit  down!''  came  in  whispers 
from  both  sides.  She  took  no  notice  of  them, 
and  the  teacher,  busily  preparing  the  roll-call 
at  his  table,  did  not  hear.  But  soon  a  ripple  of 
laughter  from  the  school,  and  a  voice  from  the 
stove,  interrupted  his  work,  and  brought  him 
scowling  to  his  feet. 

The  little  girl  was  standing  with  one  arm 
extended  and  one  small  forefinger  pointing 
past  him  at  the  globe,  which,  for  want  of  a  bet- 
ter, was  but  a  fat  pumpkin  ingeniously  impaled 
on  a  stick,  and  peeled  over  part  of  its  surface 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  five  oceans  were  rep- 
resented, while  the  portion  yet  unpeeled  showed 
the  rude  outlines  of  the  six  continents. 

<  *  We  Ve  got  lots  of  pumpkins  bigger  'n  that 
at  our  house,''  she  was  saying,  her  face  turned 
toward  **Frenchy,"  an  up-river  trapper  who 
studied  geography  and  English  spelling  be- 
tween his  rounds  of  the  sloughs.  **Why,  the 
cellar  's  full  of  'em." 

The  teacher  rapped  briskly  on  the  table 
with  his  pencil,  to  call  her  to  order.  **Look 
here,"  he  said,  a  little  crossly,  **you  must  n't 
talk  out  like  that.    Sit  down." 

**No  seat,"  she  faltered,  lowering  her  voice. 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  girls '  row ;  there 
were  only  four  seats  in  it,  and  they  were  full. 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  71 

The  boys '  benches  were  not ;  but,  loath  to  lessen 
the  terrors  of  a  favorite  punishment,  he  hesi- 
tated to  put  her  there.  **Come  up  to  the  ros- 
trum, then, ' '  he  said. 

The  little  girl  walked  slowly  forward,  and 
a  flush  stole  up  her  throat  and  mounted  to  her 
temples.  But  when  she  was  once  seated,  her 
sailor-hat  on  one  side  and  her  Second  Reader 
on  the  other,  she  felt  less  demeaned;  for  the 
rostrum  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole  room, 
and  from  it  she  could  see  Luff ree,  fast  asleep 
under  the  youngest  brother's  bench. 

The  teacher  went  back  to  the  roll-call,  and  the 
pupils  droned  the  time  away  till  recess.  Then 
the  boys  rummaged  through  their  willow  bas- 
kets for  something  to  eat  and  went  out  to  play 
*  *  prisoner 's  base. ' '  But  the  girls— the  neighbor 
woman's  daughter,  and  the  seven  belonging 
to  the  Dutchman  who  lived  at  the  Vermillion's 
forks— stayed  in,  gathered  in  a  silent  circle 
about  the  rostrum,  fingered  the  big  gold  brooch 
that  the  little  girl's  mother  had  let  her  wear  as 
a  reward  for  attending,  and  looked  her  up  and 
down,  from  the  scarlet  bow  on  her  hair  to  her 
fringed  leggings.  And  she,  never  having  seen 
the  Dutchman's  children  before,  forgot  to  be 
polite,  and  stared  back  at  their  denim  dresses, 
l^igtails,  and  wooden  shoes. 

When  school  took  up  again,  the  Swede  boy 
was  told  to  put  his  sums  on  a  bit  of  tar-papered 


72      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

wall  near  him,  and  a  mixed  class  in  reading 
lined  up  in  front  of  the  teacher's  table.  Soon, 
however,  the  room  was  again  quiet.  The  Swede 
boy  and  the  class  sat  down,  and  the  whole 
school,  made  sleepy  by  the  warmth  from  the 
stove,  lounged  on  their  benches  and  drowsed 
on  their  books,  and  even  the  little  girl,  sitting 
idly  on  the  rostrum,  nodded  wearily.  But 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  silence,  and  just  be- 
fore the  pupils  were  dismissed  for  noon,  some- 
thing so  startling  happened  that  the  little  girl 's 
curls  fairly  stiffened  in  alarm. 

The  teacher  clapped  his  hands,  the  children 
followed  with  a  hurried  banging  of  their  books 
and  slates,  and,  instantly,  before  the  little  girl 
had  time  to  think  what  it  all  meant,  the  scholars, 
with  one  accord,  began  to  roar  at  the  top  of 
their  lungs. 

"  Scotland 's  burning !   Scotland 's  burning !  *' 

they  cried,  rapping  their  knuckles  upon  their 
desks  in  the  rhythm  of  galloping  horses,— 

"  More  water !  More  water ! 
Fire!   Fire!   Fire!   Fire! 
More  water !  More  water ! " 

The  little  girl  straightened  herself  and  a 
gray  light  crept  up  to  where  the  flush  had  been, 
so  that  every  freckle  of  the  hateful  thirteen 
stood  out  clearly.    Near  her,  the  teacher  was 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  73 

standing,  with  his  feet  planted  wide  apart  and 
his  eyes  raised  to  the  ceiling.  And  before  him, 
shouting  and  pounding  and  staring  with  crim- 
son faces  into  his,  were  the  pupils. 

"Fire!   Fire!   Fire!   Fire!" 

they  yelled.  It  brought  back  to  the  little  girl 
that  terrible  moment  when  the  farm-house,  with 
a  dripping-pan  full  of  hog-fat  flaming  in  the 
oven,  was  threatened  with  destruction. 

"  Scotland  's  burning !   Scotland 's  burning ! " 

sounded  the  warning  again.  No  one  moved. 
But,  not  knowing  just  how  near  Scotland  might 
be,  and  fearful  for  her  safety  with  danger 
so  imminent,  she  did  not  wait  longer.  Clutch- 
ing her  hat  and  book,  with  a  bound  she  cleared 
the  distance  to  the  youngest  brother,  and,  with 
a  stifled  cry,  leaped  into  his  arms. 

But  in  her  excitement  she  had  forgotten 
Luffree,  lying  asleep  under  the  bench,  and  had 
jumped  squarely  upon  one  soft,  outstretched 
paw.  The  dog  sprang  up  with  a  howl  of  pain, 
the  school  stopped  its  singing,  and  the  angry 
teacher  left  the  rostrum  and  advanced  toward 
the  little  girl.  The  next  moment  he  dragged 
the  dog  from  under  the  bench  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck  and  hurled  him  out  of  the  door;  the 
next,  he  shook  an  admonishing  finger  in  the 
very  face  of  the  thirteen  unlucky  freckles. 


74      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Late  that  afternoon,  the  eldest  brother  pad- 
dled across  the  sloughs  in  the  bull-boat,  and  had 
a  talk  with  the  teacher.  The  teacher  lived  in 
the  Irishman's  shack,  which  was  made  of  Cot- 
tonwood logs  laid  one  upon  another  and  cov- 
ered with  a  roof  of  sticks  and  dirt,  and 
*^ bached''  by  himself  through  the  term,  because 
the  little  girl's  mother  had  refused  to  board 
him.  So,  when  the  eldest  brother  had  finished 
his  visit  and  rowed  back,  he  recited  such  an 
ill-natured  version  of  that  day's  happenings  at 
the  school-house,  that  the  family,  until  then 
divided  by  the  contradictory  stories  of  the 
youngest  brother  and  the  little  girl,  united  in 
heaping  reproaches  upon  her. 

Next  morning  she  again  traveled  the  wind- 
ing path  that  skirted  the  marsh-grass  and  bul- 
rushes, this  time  on  the  pinto.  Luffree,  who 
had  been  tied  up  at  breakfast,  but  had  myste- 
riously slipped  his  collar,  followed,  as  before. 
When  she  arrived  within  a  short  distance  of 
the  school-house,  she  climbed  down  and,  with- 
out taking  any  notice  of  the  giggling,  waiting 
crowd  by  the  door,  carefully  picketed  the  mare 
out  of  reach  of  the  other  ponies.  Then  she 
pulled  off  the  bridle,  put  it  beside  the  picket- 
pin,  and,  after  bidding  Luffree  watch  beside 
it,  went  in  quietly  to  take  her  seat.  She  had 
not  unblanketed  her  horse  because,  under- 
neath the  soft  sheepskin  saddle  and  well  out 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  75 

of  sight,  was  tucked  one  of  her  mother's  lat- 
est magazines  that  had  pictures  scattered 
through  it. 

When  school  was  called,  she  was  not  allowed 
to  keep  the  seat  on  the  rostrum.  One  of  the 
Dutchman's  seven  being  absent,  she  was  told 
to  share  the  rear  bench  with  the  neighbor 
woman's  daughter,  and  silent  a  happy  hour 
in  the  seclusion  of  the  high  seat,  watching 
^^Frenchy,"  who  had  no  slate,  write  his  spell- 
ing on  the  smooth,  round  stove,  and  smiling 
at  the  Swede  boy  when  he  looked  slyly  across 
at  her. 

Then  she  heard  some  one  call  her  name.  It 
was  the  teacher.  *  *  Come  forward  to  the  chart, ' ' 
he  said,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  shake  the  very 
floor. 

She  took  up  her  Second  Reader,  edged  her- 
self off  her  seat,  and  stood  beside  it,  her  eyes 
fixed  questioningly  upon  him. 

*  ^  Come  forward  to  the  chart,  I  say, ' '  he  said 
again.    *  *  Can 't  you  hear  1 ' ' 

**Yes,"  answered  the  little  girl,  starting  up 
the  room.  But  she  walked  so  slowly  that,  when 
she  came  near  his  table,  he  put  out  one  lean 
hand,  grabbed  her  by  the  arm,  and  hurried 
her.  She  resented  his  touch  by  twisting  about 
until  she  was  free.  Then  she  took  her  place  in 
front  of  the  chart,  feeling  as  if  every  eye  in 
the  room  were  looking  up  and  down  the  row 


76      BIOGRAPHY   OF  A   PRAIRIE  GIRL 

of  blue  crockery  buttons  on  the  back  of  her 
apron. 

The  teacher  began  to  turn  forward  sheet  after 
sheet  of  the  chart,  until  the  first  page  was  before 
him.  It  depicted  a  figure  in  silk  hat,  long  coat, 
and  light  trousers,  promenading  with  a  cane 
in  his  hand  and  a  dog  at  his  heels.  Underneath 
were  two  lines  of  simple  words,  and  two  in- 
quiring sentences.  The  teacher  picked  up  a 
long  Cottonwood  stick  and  pointed  it  first  at 
the  man  and  then  at  the  dog. 

^^Whatisthat?'^hesaid. 

**A  man,''  answered  the  little  girl. 

^*And  thatr' 

*^A  dog." 

**Now  read  after  me,''  he  went  on,  indicating 
a  word,  **  *M-a-n,  man.'  " 

She  paused  a  moment,  her  lips  pressed 
tightly  together. 

^  ^  Read,  read,  read ! ' '  commanded  the  teacher, 
whacking  the  chart  with  a  pointer. 

*  *  *  M-a-n,  man, '  ' '  repeated  the  little  girl,  her 
eyes  on  his  face. 

^^ Don't  look  at  me,"  he  scolded;  *^look  at 
the  chart." 

*^I  don't  haf  to,"  said  the  little  girl,  ear- 
nestly; *'I-I-" 

Something  unpleasant  would  certainly  have 
happened  at  that  moment,  had  not  * '  Frenchy, ' ' 
deep  in  his  geography  lesson,  piped  up  at  the 
teacher  from  the  rear  of  the  room. 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  77 

*'T-a-n-g-a-n-y-i-k-a,*'  he  spelled,  snapping 
his  fingers  and  waving  his  arm.  ^*Wot  eez 
dat?^' 

For  a  moment  the  teacher  was  silent,  scowling 
down  at  the  little  girl.  Then  he  came  back  to 
the  chart  with  another  whack  of  the  pointer. 

*  *  Call  it  Moses,  ^ '  he  growled. 

**Mozez,''  repeated  ^^Frenchy,**  resignedly, 
but  with  a  shake  of  his  head  over  the  intricacies 
of.  the  English  language. 

The  little  girl  had  twisted  half  around  to 
look  at  a  Dutch  child,  and  the  teacher,  angry 
because  he  had  neglected  to  look  over  the 
geography  lesson,  jerked  her  into  place  again 
by  her  sleeve.     *^Now,  you  read,''  he  said; 

*  *  look  at  the  end  of  my  pointer  and  read.  ^  * 

**I  can  read  them  words  'thout  looking  at 
'em,''  she  protested,  pointing  at  an  inquiring 
line,  *  *  'cause  I  can  read  everyfing  in  this. ' ' 
And  she  held  up  the  Second  Reader. 

*  *  Huh ! ' '  grunted  the  teacher,  taking  the  book 
from  her  and  tossing  it  upon  his  table.  *  *  Have 
you  ever  been  to  school  before  1 ' ' 

**No,"  answered  the  little  girl. 

*^Then  you  '11  start  right  in  where  every- 
body else  does,"  he  said.  *^Read  this  line. 
*Do  you  see  a  man?'  " 

**  ^Doyouseeaman?'  "  she  repeated,  still 
watching  him. 

''Look  at  the  chart  and  read  it,"  he  com- 
manded furiously. 


78      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

An  unfriendly  light  suddenly  shone  in  the  lit- 
tle girPs  eyes.  She  stepped  back  and  sum- 
moned all  her  pride  to  resent  the  indignity 
that  he  was  putting  upon  her  before  the  whole 
school. 

*'0h,  I  don't  want  to  read  that  baby  talk/' 
she  cried,  *^and— and— I  won%  and  I  'm  going 
home  to  my  mother. ' ' 

The  teacher  swayed  in  his  wrath  like  a  tall 
Cottonwood.  *^You  don't,  eh?  You  won't, 
eh?"  he  bellowed,  and,  stooping  down, 
plucked  the  little  girl  by  the  ear. 

This  time  it  was  the  Swede  boy  who  inter- 
rupted the  course  of  events  in  front.  He 
leaned  forward  and  whispered  something  into 
the  ear  of  the  boy  ahead,  and  then,  with  an 
inarticulate  shout,  threw  himself  upon  the  boy 
and  began  to  maul  him.  Instantly  the  teacher, 
yearning  to  use  his  hands  upon  some  one,  de- 
scended upon  them  and  wrested  them  apart. 
But  they  clinched  again  and,  continuing  to 
fight,  managed  so  to  misdirect  their  kicks  that 
they  reached,  not  each  other,  but  his  lanky,  in- 
terfering person. 

And,  while  the  battle  raged,  the  little  girl  fled 
out  of  the  school-house  toward  the  pinto  and 
pulled  up  the  picket-pin.  The  teacher  did  not 
see  her  go,  but,  in  retreating  from  an  unusually 
vicious  blow  of  the  Swede  boy's  fist,  caught 
sight  of  her  just  as  she  was  leading  her  horse 


THE  MISFIT   SCHOLAR  79 

to  an  ant-hill  to  mount.  With  a  hoarse  call 
for  her  to  return,  he  started  after  her,  bearing 
in  his  train  the  two  boys,  who,  still  struggling, 
impeded  his  progress. 

He  shook  them  off  at  the  door-step  and  broke 
into  a  run.  The  little  girl  was  vainly  striving 
to  climb  to  the  pinto ^s  back;  but  she  was  so 
frightened  that  each  time  she  made  a  jump 
for  the  saddle  she  came  short  of  it  and  fell  back. 
And,  seeing  the  teacher  coming,  her  efforts  were 
more  ineffectual  than  ever.  But  when  he  was 
scarcely  a  rod  away,  and  when  escape  seemed 
impossible,  a  new  figure  joined  in  the  affair. 

Luffree  had  been  lying  quietly  beside  the 
picket-pin  until  the  little  girl  ran  out,  when 
he  got  up,  ready  to  follow  her,  and  joyfully 
leaped  about  the  mare.  Then  he  saw  the  teacher 
advancing,  and  remembered  the  rough  handling 
of  the  day  before.  So,  as  the  Yankton  man 
came  close,  swinging  his  arms  about  like  the 
fans  of  the  Dutchman's  windmill,  the  dog 
went  forward  to  meet  him,  his  hair  on  end,  his 
eyes  shifting  treacherously,  his  teeth  showing 
in  an  ugly  white  seam,  all  the  wolf  blood  in 
him  roused. 

The  teacher  halted  when  he  saw  him  and 
called  back  to  the  scholars,  now  crowding 
about  the  door.    *  ^  Bring  my  pointer, ' '  he  cried. 

Not  a  pupil  moved.  The  teacher,  noting  that 
no  one  was  obeying  his  order,  and  not  daring 


80      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

to  go  forward  unarmed,  ran  back  at  the  top 
of  his  speed  for  the  stick.  But  he  was  too  late ; 
for,  by  the  time  he  had  gained  the  school-room 
and  grabbed  both  the  pointer  and  the  stove 
poker,  the  little  girl  had  scrambled  upon  her 
pinto  and  galloped  off  toward  the  farm-house. 

The  teacher  did  not  give  chase,  but,  sputter- 
ing revenge  under  his  breath,  called  the  school 
to  order.  Then,  not  forgetting  what  severity 
is  due  insubordination  where  the  sons  of  sal- 
ary-supplying fathers  are.  concerned,  he  gave 
the  boys  who  had  fought,  but  who  were  now 
docile  and  smiling,  a  mighty  tongue-lashing. 

When  the  little  girl  was  beyond  hailing  dis- 
tance or  possibility  of  capture,  she  brought  the 
pinto  to  a  standstill  and  looked  back.  Once  she 
opened  her  lips  as  if  to  say  something,  but 
closed  them  again,  and,  after  waiting  until  the 
scholars  had  all  gone  in,  rode  on.  She  did  not 
go  home;  instead,  when  she  came  in  sight  of 
the  reservation  road,  she  turned  east  and  can- 
tered across  the  prairie  until  only  the  top  of  the 
farm-house  was  visible  to  her  as  she  sat  upon 
her  horse.  Then  she  dismounted,  tethered  the 
pinto,  made  Luff ree  lie  down,  and,  having  taken 
the  magazine  from  under  the  saddle-blankets, 
cuddled  against  the  dog.  She  was  still  trem- 
bling, her  throat  ached  with  unspoken  anger, 
and,  underneath  her  apron,  her  heart  bounded 
so  that  the  checks  moved  in  regular  time. 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  81 

But  soon  she  wiped  her  blurred  eyes  and 
turned  to  the  pictures  in  the  magazine.  They 
began  with  a  red-brown  one  of  a  storm-tossed 
ship  on  a  rocky  coast;  and,  following,  were 
drawings  of  queer  boxes  and  chairs  and,  yet 
more  strange,  of  a  herd  of  grazing  cattle  with 
a  hoard  fence  around  it!  There  was  also  a 
funny  picture  of  a  ragged  boy  and  a  stylish  lit- 
tle girl  who  wore  a  round  hat  and  a  polonaise. 
And,  lastly,  there  was  shown  a  beautiful  young 
woman  standing  by  a  table  in  a  long,  loose  robe, 
very  much  like  the  army  chaplain 's. 

It  was  over  this  picture  that  the  little  girl  bent 
longest,  and  she  read,  not  without  some  tedious 
spelling,  the  words  that  were  printed  beneath  it : 

**Mary,  in  cap  and  gown,  was  so  bright  and 
dainty  a  vision  that  the  professor  wished  that 
more  young  ladies  of  gentle  birth  might  attend 
the  college.*' 

College !  It  was  not  a  new  word  to  the  little 
girl,  for  she  had  heard  the  colonel  tell  her 
mother  that  he  was  going  to  send  his  son  to 
college.  But  now  she  knew  that  girls  as  well  as 
boys  could  go.  And  she  saw  by  the  picture  that 
they  wore  beautiful  flowing  robes  and  square 
caps. 

It  was  the  cap  that  specially  attracted  her,  for 
it  rested  becomingly  upon  a  mass  of  wavy 
hair.  She  wished  that  her  curls,  which  had  to 
be  coaxed  into  shape  every  morning  with  a 


82      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

warm  stove-lifter  and  a  wet  brush,  would  hang 
in  ripples  like  the  young  woman  ^s,  so  that  she 
could  wear  one. 

*^0h,  ain't  it  sweet!''  she  said  aloud,  getting 
up  on  her  knees  beside  Luffree  and  holding  out 
the  book  at  arm's  length.  And  then,  with  the 
mortar-board  as  her  inspiration,  there  flashed 
into  her  brain  a  wonderful  thought  that  was 
to  grow  through  the  coming  years ;  and  her  lips 
framed  a  splendid  purpose— heard  by  no  mor- 
tal ears,  save  those  of  the  shivering  hound  and 
the  cropping  pony— that  time  was  gloriously 
to  fulfil. 

^^And  maybe,"  she  added  happily,  '*I  '11 
have  'monia,  and  my  hair  '11  come  in  just  as 
curly. ' ' 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  fired  with  her  new 
ambition,  and  undid  the  pony.  And  remem- 
bering that  it  would  be  as  well  to  reach  the 
farm-house  before  the  family  could  hear  the 
second  tale  of  trouble  at  the  school,  she  hastily 
coiled  the  picket-rope,  mounted,  hid  the  maga- 
zine under  the  saddle-blankets,  and,  with  the 
dog  running  stiffly  in  her  wake,  rode  homeward. 

When  she  reached  the  barn,  she  did  not  even 
wait  to  fasten  the  pinto  in  her  stall ;  but,  taking 
the  magazine,  raced  toward  the  kitchen.  As 
she  halted  breathless  in  its  open  door,  however, 
she  was  sorry  that  she  had  not  come  in  quietly 
by  way  of  her  bedroom  window  and  waited 


THE  MISFIT   SCHOLAR  83 

until  she  was  sure  that  her  mother  was  alone. 
For  she  found  herself  in  the  presence  not  only 
of  the  big  brothers,  but  of  him  whose  authority- 
she  had  so  lately  flouted ! 

The  suddenness  of  the  discovery  drove  the 
words  she  had  meant  to  say  in  her  own  behalf 
from  her  brain.  But  five  pairs  of  eyes  were 
upon  her  and  retreat  was  impossible;  so  she 
strove  mutely  to  win  any  possible  sympathy  by 
covering,  with  one  unsteady  hand,  the  ear 
that  had  been  pulled. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  And  in  that 
brief  space  the  little  girl  divined,  as  she  sought 
each  face,  that  but  one  of  the  group  before  her 
was  eager  to  see  her  punished,  and  that  one 
was  the  teacher.  In  the  eyes  of  the  eldest 
brother  there  was  no  disapproval,  only  a  lurk- 
ing smile ;  the  biggest  was  openly  beaming  with 
satisfaction;  the  youngest  had  taken  his  atti- 
tude, as  usual,  from  the  eldest;  and  her  mo- 
ther's look  was  sadly  kind.  But  the  teacher 
was  hostile  from  brow  to  boot. 

It  was  the  eldest  brother  who  first  broke  the 
silence.  He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
knocked  out  the  ashes  against  his  bench,  and 
addressed  the  little  girl.  *  *  So  you  went  on  the 
war-path  to-day?"  he  said. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  moved  toward  her 
mother. 

**This   youngster,"   he   went   on,   wheeling 


84      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

around  on  the  teacher,  '4s  well  up  in  them 
chart  pages  and  can  read  pretty  good  in  most 
books.  So  1  guess''— he  drawled  it  out  sneer- 
ingly— **as  long  as  you  ain't  got  any  classes 
that  exactly  fit  her,  she  'd  better  lie  fallow  for 
a  while." 

The  little  girl  shot  a  proud  glance  at  the 
Yankton  man  as  she  heard  the  eldest  brother's 
praise,  and,  emboldened,  spoke  up  for  herself. 
* '  I  can  read  ^11  the  chart, ' '  she  declared,  *  *  and 
I  can  read  everyfing  in  the  First  Reader.  And 
I  could  spell  *man'  "—she  put  the  hand  that 
she  had  been  holding  over  her  ear  on  a  level 
with  her  knee— ''when  I  was  so  high." 

The  teacher  snorted.  "You  know  your  own 
business,"  he  said  to  the  eldest  brother. 

' '  Guess  we  do, ' '  chimed  in  the  biggest,  grin- 
ning. ' '  No  use  bothering  her  with  a-b,  ab,  when 
she  can  read  the  things  she  does. ' '  The  teacher 
stood  up,  ready  to  go.  "And  I  was  about  to 
remark,"  continued  the  biggest,  banteringly, 
"that  she  's  got  a  lot  of  mighty  nice  stories  that 
she  's  read  and  done  with ;  and  if  you  'd  like  to 
borrow  one,  once  in  a  while,  to  pass  an  evenin' 
with,  you  'd  find  'em  mighty  educatin'." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  the  teacher;  "but 
like  as  not  you  '11  need  'em  all  to  finish  up 
her  eddication  on.  I  guess  maybe  you  '11  be 
sending  her  to  Sioux  Falls  in  a  year  or  so  to 
kind  o'  polish  her  off." 


THE  MISFIT  SCHOLAR  85 

The  sarcasm  in  the  voice  stung  the  biggest 
brother.  *'Well/'  he  said,  ^'she  could  polish 
off  right  here  on  these  plains  and  have  a  lot 
more  in  her  noddle  in  a  year  or  two  than  some 
people  I  know. ' ' 

This  boast  of  her  favorite  again  brought  the 
little  girl's  courage  up.  *'I  don't  want  to  go  to 
a  city  school,"  she  declared,  ^^  'cause  they  don't 
wear  caps  there." 

The  teacher  was  tramping  out,  with  no  back- 
ward look  or  good-by  word,  and  he  did  not  wait 
to  hear  more.  So  it  was  the  eldest  brother 
who  answered  her.  **If  you  don't  go  here 
and  you  don't  go  to  Sioux  Falls,"  he  said, 
**I  'd  like  to  know  where  you  '11  learn  any- 
thing. Ma  ain't  got  no  time  to  be  your  gover- 
ness." 

*^I  don't  want  no  governess,  either,"  she  re- 
plied. *  *  I  know  what  I  'm  going  to  do. ' '  She 
brought  forward  the  magazine,  which  she  had 
been  liolding  behind  her  back  with  one  hand, 
and,  opening  it  at  the  drawing  of  the  young 
woman  in  cap  and  gown,  laid  it  on  the  biggest 
brother's  knee.  Then  she  went  up  to  her  mo- 
ther, her  face  fairly  shining  through  the  dust 
and  tear-marks  on  it.  Her  mother  put  out 
her  arms  and  gently  drew  the  little  girl  to  her. 
Into  her  mind  had  come  the  picture  of  herself, 
in  spotless  pinafore,  bending  with  her  gover- 
ness over  her  English  books.    And  beside  that 


86      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

picture,  the  little  girl,  stmburned,  soiled,  and 
poorly  shod,  made  a  sharp  contrast. 

*'What  are  you  going  to  do,  pet  lambT'  she 
asked. 

**I  'm  going  to  cut  'nough  carpet-rags  this 
winter  to  last  you  a  whole  year, ' '  said  the  little 
girl,  ' '  'cause  next  summer  you  won 't  have  me 
any  more.    I  'm— I  'm— going  to  college." 

The  teacher,  jogging  out  of  the  barn-yard  to 
the  ash-lane,  heard  a  hearty  roll  of  bassos 
from  the  kitchen,  and  did  not  doubt  but  that 
he  was  its  target.  He  reined  in  his  horse  at  the 
bare  flower-beds  and  glowered  back  at  the  door. 
Then,  with  a  mutter,  ungrammatical  but  elo- 
quent, he  spurred  on  toward  the  lonely,  supper- 
less  shack  by  the  slough. 


VI 

THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING 

THE  little  girl  was  making  believe,  as  she 
planted  the  com,  that  the  field  was  a  great 
city;  the  long  rows,  reaching  up  from  the  tim- 
othy meadow  to  the  camelian  bluff,  were  the 
beautiful  streets ;  and  the  hills,  two  steps  apart, 
were  the  houses.  She  had  a  seed-bag  slung 
under  her  arm,  and  when  she  came  to  a  hill  she 
put  her  hand  into  it  and  took  out  four  plump, 
yellow  kernels.  And  as  she  went  along,  drop- 
ping her  gifts  at  each  door,  she  played  that  she 
was  visiting  and  said,  ^*How  do  you  dof^'  as 
politely  as  she  could  to  the  lady  of  the  house, 
at  the  same  time  taking  off  her  battered  blue 
sailor-hat  and  bowing,— just  as  she  had  seen 
the  lightning-rod  agent  do  to  her  mother. 

She  had  begun  the  game  by  naming  every 
family  she  called  upon.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  she  had  used  up  all  the  names  she  could 
think  of —those  of  the  neighbors,  the  Indians, 
the  story-book  people,  the  horses,  the  cows,  the' 
oxen,  the  dogs,  and  even  the  vegetables  in  the 
garden.    So,  after  having  planted  a  row  or  two, 

87 


88      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

she  contented  herself  with  making  believe  she 
was  among  strangers  and  just  offering  a 
friendly  greeting  to  every  household. 

She  had  come  out  to  the  field  when  the  prai- 
rie-chickens were  still  playing  their  bagpipes 
on  the  river  bank,  their  booming  sounding 
through  the  morning  air  so  clearly  that  the  lit- 
tle girl  had  been  sure  they  were  not  farther  than 
the  edge  of  the  wheat-field,  and  had  walked  out 
of  her  way  to  try  to  see  them,  tramping  along 
in  her  best  shoes,  which  had  shiny  copper  toes 
and  store-made  laces.  But  when  she  had 
reached  the  wheat,  the  booming,  like  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  had  been  temptingly  farther  on;  and 
she  had  turned  back  to  the  newly  marked  corn- 
land. 

Her  big  brothers  had  sent  her  out  to  drop  and 
cover  eighty  rows,  the  last  corn-planting  to  be 
done  that  year  on  the  big  Dakota  farm.  They 
had  finished  the  rest  of  the  field  themselves  and, 
intent  on  getting  in  the  rutabaga  crop,  had 
turned  over  the  remaining  strip  to  the  little 
girl,  declaring  that  she  could  drop  and  cover 
forty  rows  in  the  morning  and  forty  in  the 
afternoon,  and  not  half  try.  To  make  sure 
that  she  would  have  time  to  finish  the  work,  they 
had  started  her  off  immediately  after  a  five- 
o'clock  breakfast;  and  in  order  that  she  should 
not  lose  any  time  at  noon,  they  had  made  her 
take  her  dinner  with  her  in  a  tall  tin  pail. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  89 

Her  first  glimpse  of  the  unplanted  piece  had 
greatly  discouraged  her,  for  it  seemed  dread- 
fully wide  and  long.  So,  after  deciding  to  plant 
the  whole  of  it  before  doing  any  covering  with 
the  hoe,  because  the  dropping  of  the  corn  was 
much  easier  and  quicker  to  do  than  the  hoeing, 
she  went  to  work  half-heartedly.  Now,  to  make 
her  task  seem  short,  she  had  further  determined 
to  play  ^^city.^' 

It  was  such  fun  to  pretend  that,  as  she  went 
bobbing  and  bowing  up  and  down  the  rows,  she 
forgot  to  stop  her  game  and  throw  clods  at  the 
gray  gophers.  They  lived  in  the  timothy  mea- 
dow, and  were  so  bold  that,  if  they  were  not 
watched,  they  would  come  out  of  their  burrows 
and  follow  the  rows,  stealing  every  kernel  out  of 
the  hills  as  they  went  along  and  putting  the 
booty  in  their  cheek-pouches. 

After  she  had  dropped  corn  as  much  as  a 
whole  hour,  the  little  girPs  back  ached,  and 
when  she  went  to  refill  her  seed-bag  at  the  corn- 
barrel  that  stood  on  the  border  of  the  meadow 
near  the  row-marker,  she  sat  down  to  rest  a  mo- 
ment. The  marker  resembled  a  sleigh,  only  it 
had  five  runners  instead  of  two,  and  there  were 
rocks  piled  on  top  of  it  to  make  it  heavy.  So  the 
minute  the  little  girPs  eyes  fell  upon  it  and 
she  saw  the  runners,  she  thought  of  winter. 
"Winter  instantly  reminded  her  of  the  muskrats 
in  the  slough  below  the  bluff.    And  with  that 


90      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

thought  she  could  not  resist  starting  down  to  see 
if  they  were  busy  after  the  thaw. 

She  gathered  many  flowers  on  the  way,  and 
stopped  to  pull  off  her  shoes  and  stockings.  At 
last  she  reached  the  slough  and  waded  in  to  a 
muskrat  house,  where  she  used  her  hoe-handle 
as  a  poker  to  scare  out  some  of  the  muskrats. 
Failing  in  this,  she  picked  up  her  shoes  and 
stockings  and  went  around  the  slough  to  find 
out  if  any  green  leaves  were  unfolding  yet  in 
the  wild-plum  thicket.  A  little  later  she  climbed 
the  bluff  to  the  corn-field,  making  a  diligent 
search  for  Indian  arrowheads  all  the  way. 

When  she  reached  the  seed-bag  again,  she 
threw  the  string  over  her  head  and  started  up  a 
row  determinedly.  For  a  rod  or  more  she  did 
not  pause  either  to  be  polite  or  to  scare  away 
gophers,  but  hurried  along  very  fast,  with  her 
eyes  to  the  ground.  Suddenly  she  chanced  to 
look  just  ahead  of  her,  and  stopped  abruptly, 
standing  erect.  Her  shadow  pointed  straight 
for  the  bluff :  it  was  noon  and  high  time  to  eat 
dinner. 

She  sat  down  on  the  marker  and  munched 
her  sandwiches  of  salted  lard  and  corn-meal 
bread  with  great  appetite.  She  was  just  finish- 
ing them  when  the  call  of  a  goose  far  overhead 
attracted  her  attention.  She  got  down  and  lay 
flat  on  her  back,  with  her  head  on  the  seed-bag, 
to  watch  the  flock,  high  above  her,  speeding 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  91 

northward  to  the  lakes,  their  leader  crying  com- 
mands to  the  gray  company  that  flew  in 
V-shaped  order  behind  him.  When  the  geese 
were  but  a  dark  thread  across  the  north  sky, 
she  felt  drowsy  and,  turning  on  her  side  with 
her  hat  over  her  face  and  her  back  to  the  gentle 
spring  breeze,  went  fast  asleep. 

She  lay  there  for  hours,  entirely  unaware  of 
the  saucy  stares  of  several  gophers  who  paused 
in  their  hunt  for  kernels  and  stood  straight  as 
picket-pins  to  watch  and  wonder  at  the  little 
heap  of  pink  calico  under  the  battered  sailor- 
hat,  or  whisked  about  her,  their  short  legs 
flashing,  their  tails  wide  and  bushy,  their  cheek- 
pouches  so  full  of  kernels  that  they  smiled  fatly 
when  they  looked  at  her,  and  showed  four  long 
front  teeth.  But  the  little  girl  was  wrapped  in 
a  happy  dream  of  a  certain  beautiful  red  wagon 
with  a  real  seat  that  she  had  seen  in  a  thick 
catalogue  sent  her  mother  by  a  store  in  a  distant 
city.  So  she  never  moved  till  late  in  the  after- 
noon, when  the  gentle  breeze  strengthened  to  a 
sharp  wind  that,  with  a  petulant  gust,  whirled 
her  sailor  across  the  rows  and  far  away. 

The  flying  hat  caused  a  stampede  among  some 
curious  gophers  who  were  just  then  investigat- 
ing a  near-by  unplanted  row  in  the  hope  of 
finding  more  corn.  Clattering  shrilly,  they 
scudded  back  to  the  meadow,  and  the  little  girl 
rose.    After  a  long  chase  for  the  hat,  she  went 


92      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

stiffly  to  work  again,  not  stopping  to  put  on 
her  shoes  and  stockings,  though  the  wind  was 
cold. 

After  that  she  planted  faithfully,  leaving  off 
only  to  throw  clods  at  the  gophers,  or  to  ease 
her  back  now  and  then.  And  it  was  when  she 
was  resting  a  moment  that  she  noticed  some- 
thing that  made  her  begin  working  harder  than 
ever.  Her  shadow  stretched  out  so  far  to  the 
eastward  that  she  could  not  touch  its  head  with 
the  end  of  her  long  hoe.  When  she  first  came 
out  that  morning,  it  had  fallen  just  as  far  the 
other  way.  She  looked  anxiously  up  at  the  sun, 
which  was  shining  slantingly  upon  the  freshly 
harrowed  land  through  a  gray  haze  that  hung 
about  it.  Then  she  looked  again  at  her  shadow, 
distorted  and  grotesque,  that  moved  when 
she  moved  and  mimicked  her  when  she  bent 
to  drop  the  com.  Its  length  showed  her  that 
it  was  getting  late,  and  that  she  would  soon  hear 
the  summoning  blast  of  the  cow-horn  that  hung 
behind  the  kitchen  door. 

She  dropped  the  seed-bag,  walked  across  the 
strip  still  unplanted,  and  counted  the  rows.  She 
returned  on  the  run.  The  dropping  was  little 
more  than  half  finished,  and  no  covering  had 
been  done  at  all.  She  knew  she  could  not  fin- 
ish that  day ;  yet  if  they  asked  her  at  the  farm- 
house if  she  had  completed  the  planting,  she 
would  not  dare  to  tell  them  how  little  of  it  was 
done.    She  sat  down  to  pull  on  her  shoes  and 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  93 

stockings,  thinking  hard  all  the  while.  But, 
just  as  she  had  one  leg  dressed,  she  sprang  up 
with  a  happy  thought,  and  stood  on  the  shod 
foot  like  a  heron  while  she  dressed  the  other. 
Then,  without  stopping  to  lace  her  shoes,  she 
tossed  her  sailor  aside,  swung  the  seed-bag  to 
the  front,  and  began  dropping  corn  as  fast  as 
she  could. 

The  kernels  were  counted  no  longer,  nor  were 
they  placed  in  the  hills  precisely.  Without 
a  glance  to  right  or  left,  she  raced  along  the 
rows,  her  cheeks  flaming  and  her  hair  flying 
out  in  the  wind.  She  had  decided  that  she 
would  plant  all  of  the  strip— but  not  cover  the 
corn  until  next  day. 

The  sun  sank  slowly  toward  the  horizon  as 
she  worked.  But  the  unplanted  rows  were  rap- 
idly growing  fewer  and  fewer  now,  and  the 
descending  disk  gave  her  little  worry.  Up  and 
down  she  hurried,  scattering  rather  than  drop- 
ping the  seed,  until  she  was  on  her  final  trip. 
When  she  reached  the  end  of  the  last  row,  she 
joyfully  put  all  the  corn  she  had  left  into  one 
hill,  turned  the  seed-bag  inside  out,  slipped  her 
lunch-bucket  into  it,  and,  after  hiding  her  hoe 
in  the  stone  pile  on  the  camelian  bluff,  turned 
her  face  toward  the  house.  And  at  that  very 
moment,  with  the  winding  of  the  cow-horn  for 
its  farewell  salute,  the  last  yellow  rind  of  the 
sun  went  out  of  sight  below  the  level  line  of  the 
prairie. 


94      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Early  the  next  day,  while  the  little  girPs  big 
brothers  were  busy  with  the  chores,  she  mounted 
her  pony  and  rode  away  southward  from  the 
farm-house.  At  the  reservation  road,  she 
faced  toward  the  sun  and  struck  her  horse 
to  a  canter.  A  mile  out  on  the  prairie  to  the 
east,  she  turned  due  north  up  a  low  ravine; 
and  finally  completed  almost  a  perfect  square 
by  coming  west,  when -on  a  line  with  the  car- 
nelian  bluff,  to  the  edge  of  the  corn-field. 
There  she  tied  her  pony  to  a  large  stone  on  the 
slope  of  the  bluff  and  well  out  of  sight  of  the 
house,  and,  after  hunting  up  the  hoe,  started 
energetically  to  cover  up  the  planting  of  the 
day  before. 

She  began  at  the  bluff  on  the  first  uncovered 
row,  and  swung  down  it  rapidly,  her  hoe  flash- 
ing brightly  in  the  sun  as  she  pulled  the  dirt 
over  the  kernels.  But  when  she  had  gone  less 
than  half  the  distance  to  the  meadow  she 
stopped  at  a  hill  and  anxiously  examined  it  a 
moment.  She  went  on  to  the  next  without 
using  her  hoe,  then  on  to  the  next  and  the  next ; 
and,  finally,  putting  it  across  her  shoulder, 
walked  slowly  to  the  end. 

Arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  meadow,  she 
turned  about  and  followed  up  another  row. 
Her  hoe  was  still  across  her  shoulder,  and  she 
did  not  stop  to  use  it  until  she  was  near  the 
bluff.    When  she  reached  the  meadow  the  sec- 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  95 

ond  time,  she  sat  down  on  the  row-marker  and 
looked  out  across  the  timothy. 

^  *  Goodness !' '  she  said,  addressing  the  half- 
dozen  animated  stakes  that  were  eying  her 
from  a  proper  distance,  ''you  Ve  done  it!" 

The  gophers  stood  straighter  than  ever  when 
they  heard  her  voice,  and  new  ones  came  from 
their  burrows  and  sat  up  to  watch  her,  with 
their  fore  paws  held  primly  in  front  of  them, 
their  tails  lying  out  motionless  behind,  and  their 
slender  heads  poised  pertly— with  no  movement 
except  the  twinkle  of  sharp,  black  eyes  and  the 
quiver  of  long  whiskers. 

**And  there  ain't  'nough  seed  left  in  that 
barrel, '*  went  on  the  little  girl,  *'to  plant  a 
single  row  over  again.'' 

She  sat  on  the  marker  a  long  time,  a  sorrow- 
ful little  figure,  in  deep  study.  And  when  she 
finally  rose  and  resumed  work  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  strip,  she  thought  with  dread  of  the 
disclosure  that  sprouting-time  would  bring. 

An  hour  later,  she  untied  her  pony  and 
climbed  wearily  upon  his  back.  As  she  rode 
across  the  meadow  toward  home,  she  shook  her 
head  solemnly  at  the  mounds  in  the  timothy. 

''I  s'pose,"  she  said,  ''you  Ve  got  to  have 
something  to  lay  up  for  winter ;  but  I  think  you 
might  'a'  gone  down  to  mother's  veg 'table 
patch,  'cause,  when  the  corn  comes  up,  I  '11 
catch  it!" 


96      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  corn-stalks  were  nodding  in  their  first  un- 
tasseled  sturdiness  before  the  little  girPs  big 
brothers  paid  the  field  a  visit  to  see  when  the 
crowding  suckers  should  be  pulled  and  the 
first  loosening  given  to  the  dirt  about  the  hills. 
They  went  down  one  morning,  their  muskets 
over  their  shoulders,  and  the  little  girl  went 
with  them,  hoping  that  so  much  time  had  passed 
since  the  planting  that  they  would  not  punish 
her  even  if  they  found  fault  with  her  work  on 
the  last  eighty  rows. 

Summer  had  come  in  on  a  carpet  of  spring 
green  strewn  with  wild  clover,  asters,  and  blaz- 
ing-star. And  as  they  went  along,  the  verdant 
prairie  rolled  away  before  them  for  miles  in  the 
warm  sunlight,  unbroken  save  where  their  eyes 
passed  to  the  richer  emerald  of  wheat  sprinkled 
with  gay  mustard,  new  flax  on  freshly  turned 
sod,  or  a  sea  of  waving  maize.  Overhead,  the 
geese  no  longer  streaked  the  sky  in  changing 
lines,  but  swarms  of  blackbirds  filled  the  air 
with  crisp  calls  at  their  approach,  and  rose  from 
the  ground  in  black  clouds.  Down  along  the 
slough  where  the  wild-plum  boughs  waved  their 
blossoms  they  could  see  the  calves  frolicking 
together;  and  up  on  the  carnelian  bluff,  the 
young  prairie-chickens  scurried  through  the 
grass  before  a  watchful  mother. 

The  little  girl  trailed,  barefooted,  behind  her 
big  brothers,  and  was  in  no  humor  to  enjoy  any 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  97 

of  the  beauties  of  earth  or  sky.  With  anxious 
face  she  followed  them  as  they  penetrated  the 
lusty  stand  of  corn,  going  from  south  to  north 
on  the  western  side  of  the  field.  Then  she 
tagged  less  willingly  as  they  turned  east  toward 
the  strip  she  had  planted.  As  they  neared  it 
they  remarked  a  scarcity  of  stalks  ahead;  and 
when  they  at  last  stood  on  the  first  of  the  eighty 
rows,  they  gazed  with  astonishment  at  the  nar- 
row belt  that  showed  bravely  green  at  the  upper 
end  by  the  carnelian  bluff,  but  dark  and  bare 
over  the  three  fourths  of  its  length  that  sloped 
down  to  the  timothy  meadow. 

**I  guess  this  won't  need  no  thinning,''  said 
the  biggest  brother,  ironically. 

They  set  to  work  to  examine  the  hills,  that 
only  here  and  there  sent  up  a  lonely  shoot, 
the  little  girl  standing  by  and  silently  watch- 
ing them.  But  they  found  few  signs  of  the 
gopher  burrowing  they  felt '  sure  had  devas- 
tated the  ground.  All  at  once  the  eldest  brother 
had  a  brilliant  thought,  and,  with  a  glance  at  the 
little  girl,  who  was  nervously  twisting  her  fin- 
gers, paced  eastward  and  counted  the  rows  that 
made  up  the  barren  strip.  There  were  just 
eighty ! 

He  came  back  and  joined  his  brothers;  and 
the  little  girl,  standing  before  him,  dared  not 
lift  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

**Did  you.  plant  that  com?"  he  demanded. 


98      BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

ramming  the  butt  of  his  musket  into  the 
ground. 

*^Yes,"  answered  the  little  girl,  her  voice 
husky  with  apprehension.    There  was  a  pause. 

**Did  a  lot  of  gophers  come  in  while  you  ^s 
a-planting?*'  asked  the  biggest  brother,  more 
kindly. 

^^Oh,  a  lot/*  answered  the  little  girl. 

*  *  Did  you  sling  clods  at  'em  ? ' '  demanded  the 
eldest  brother,  again  pounding  the  musket  into 
the  dirt. 

*^ Nearly  slung  my  arm  off,''  answered  the 
little  girl. 

The  eldest  brother  grunted  incredulously. 

*  *  It  's  mighty  funny, ' '  he  said,  *  ^  that  the  go- 
phers liked  your  planting  better  'n  anybody 
else 's. ' ' 

The  little  girl  did  not  answer.  Her  fore- 
head was  puckered  painfully  as,  gripping  her 
hat,  she  stood  busily  curling  and  uncurling 
her  toes  in  the  dirt.  Her  lashes  were  flutter- 
ing as  if  she  awaited  a  blow. 

**I  '11  just  ask  you  one  thing,"  went  on  the 
eldest  brother;  **what  's  to-morrow?" 

The  little  girl  started  as  if  the  blow  had  fal- 
len, and  stammered  her  answer. 

**My— my— birfday,"  she  said. 

^^A—ha/'  he  replied  suggestively.  Then  he 
tramped  to  the  timothy  meadow,  the  others 
following.  And  the  little  girl,  walking  very 
slowly,  came  on  behind. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLANTING  99 

When  the  big  brothers  had  gone  on  to  the  farm- 
house, the  little  girl  still  tarried  in  the  corn- 
field. Her  eldest  brother's  hint  concerning  her 
birthday  had  suggested  the  cruel  punishment 
she  felt  certain  was  to  be  hers,  and  she  could 
not  bear  to  face  the  family  at  the  dinner-table. 

For  months  she  had  longed  for  a  little  red 
wagon— a  wagon  with  a  long  tongue,  and  **  Ex- 
press*' on  the  side  in  black  letters;  and  had 
planned  how  she  would  harness  Bruno  and 
Luffree  to  it  and  drive  along  the  level  prairie 
roads.  Evening  after  evening  she  had  taken 
out  the  thick  catalogue  and  pored  over  the 
prices,  and  had  shown  the  kind  she  wanted 
again  and  again  to  all  the  big  brothers  in  turn. 

Then  one  day  she  had  surprised  her  biggest 
brother  while  he  was  taking  a  bulky  brown- 
paper  package  off  the  farm  wagon  on  his  re- 
turn from  Yankton.  He  had  sent  her  into  the 
house;  but  she  had  found  out  later  that  the 
package  was  in  the  corn-crib,  and  had  crept  in 
there  one  afternoon,  when  the  farm-house  was 
deserted,  and  taken  a  good  look  at  it  as  it  hung 
from  a  rafter  and  well  out  of  reach.  It  was 
still  unwrapped,  but  the  brown  paper  was  torn 
in  one  place,  and  through  the  hole  the  little  girl 
had  seen  a  smooth,  round  red  stick.  It  was  a 
wheel-spoke. 

Her  sixth-and-a-half  birthday  was  not  far  off, 
and  she  had  waited  for  its  coming  as  patiently 
as  she  could,  in  the  meantime  working  secretly 


100    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

on  harnesses  for  the  dogs,  who  had  resigned 
themselves  good-naturedly  to  much  measuring. 
Now,  on  the  very  eve  of  her  happiness,  she  was 
to  be  deprived  of  the  yearned-for  wagon. 

Crouching  in  the  corn-field,  she  grieved  away 
the  long  day.  Dinner-time  came,  and  all  the 
corn-stalk  shadows  pointed  significantly  toward 
the  camelian  bluff;  then  they  slowly  shifted 
around  to  the  eastward  and  grew  very  long; 
and  at  last  commingled  and  were  blotted  out  by 
the  descending  gloom  that  infolded  the  little 
girl. 

Lying  upon  her  back,  she  looked  up  at  the 
sky,  that  with  the  gathering  darkness  of  the 
warm  summer  night  disclosed  its  twinkling 
stars,  and  wished  that  she  could  suddenly  die 
out  there  in  the  field  in  some  mysterious  way, 
so  that  there  might  be  much  self-condemning 
woe  at  the  farm-house  when  they  found  her, 
cold  and  still.  And  she  could  not  refrain  from 
weeping  with  sheer  pity  for  herself.  After 
pondering  for  a  while  on  the  sad  picture  of  her 
untimely  death,  she  changed  to  one  of  great 
deeds  and  happiness,  wealth  and  renown,  in 
some  far-off  land  toward  which  she  was  half 
determined  to  set  out.  But  this  delightful 
dream  was  rudely  broken  into. 

A  long  blast  from  the  cow-horn  sounded 
through  the  quiet  night  and  echoed  itself 
against  the  bluff.     The  little  girl  sat  up  and 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PLA^im^G       101 

looked  toward  the  house  through  th^  dark  ^^ii^les; 
of  the  corn. 

*^I  'm  not  coming/'  she  said,  speaking  out 
loud  in  a  voice  that  broke  as  she  ended,  ^*I  'm 
going  to  stay  here  and  starve  to  death ! '  * 

Once  more  the  cow-horn  blew,  and  this  time 
the  call  was  more  prolonged  and  commanding 
in  tone.  It  brought  the  little  girl  to  her  feet, 
and  she  hunted  uj)  her  hat  and  put  it  on.  Then, 
as  two  short,  peremptory  blasts  rang  out,  she 
started  toward  home. 

Next  morning  she  dressed  hurriedly  and  got 
to  the  sitting-room  as  quickly  as  she  could. 
But  there  was  no  bright  red  wagon  standing 
bravely  in  wait  for  her  as  she  entered;  there 
was  nothing  under  her  breakfast  plate,  even, 
when  she  turned  it  over.  She  ate  her  grits  and 
milk  in  silence,  choking  a  little  when  she  swal- 
lowed, and,  as  soon  as  she  could,  rushed  away 
to  the  corn-crib  to  see  if  the  brown-paper  pack- 
age were  still  there. 

It  was  gone! 

Then  she  knew  that  her  big  brothers  had  sent 
it  away. 

She  crept  back  to  the  house  and  climbed  the 
ladder  to  the  attic,  where  she  meant  to  hide 
and  mourn  alone.  But  no  sooner  had  she 
gained  her  feet  beneath  the  peaked  roof,  than 
she  saw  what  she  had  been  seekincr. 


102    BIOGRA*PHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

?«'li'feng"  bylits  scarlet  tongue  from  a  beam, 
flanked  on  one  side  by  the  paper  of  sage  that 
was  being  saved  to  season  the  holiday  turkeys, 
and  on  the  other  by  the  bag  that  held  the 
trimmings  of  the  Yule-tree.  And  the  little  girl, 
sitting  tearfully  beneath  it,  tried  to  count  on 
her  fingers  the  days  that  must  pass  before 
Christmas. 


vn 

TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY 

COOL  and  sparkling  after  its  morning  rain- 
bath,  and  showing  along  its  green  ridges 
those  first,  faint  signs  of  yellow  that  foretell 
a  coming  ripeness,  the  grass-mantled  prairie 
lay  beneath  the  warm  noon  sun.  The  little 
girl,  cantering  over  it  toward  the  sod  shanty 
on  the  farther  river  bluffs,  frightened  the  trill- 
ing meadow-larks,  as  she  passed,  from  their 
perch  on  the  dripping  sunflowers,  and  scattered 
the  drops  on  the  wild  wheat-blades  with  the 
hoofs  of  her  blind  black  pony. 

The  storm  had  wept  so  copiously  upon  the 
fading  plains  that  the  furrows,  turned  along  the 
edge  of  the  broad  wheat-field  to  check  fires,  ran 
full  and  swift  down  the  gentle  slope  that  the 
little  girl  was  crossing  and  almost  kept  pace 
with  her  pony.  Every  hollow  in  her  path  was 
filled  to  the  brim,  and  the  chain  of  sloughs  to 
the  south,  now  resounding  with  the  joyous 
quacks  of  bluewings  and  mallards,  were  swell- 
ing their  waters  with  the  feeding  of  countless 
streams.    And  the  drenched  ground,  where  the 

103 


104    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

flowers  bent  their  clean  faces  as  if  worn  witli 
the  heavy  downpour,  sent  up  that  grateful  es- 
sence that  follows  in  the  wake  of  a  shower. 

The  blind,  black  pony  felt  the  new  life  in  the 
springy  turf  and  the  fresh  air  and  flirted  his 
unshod  heels  dangerously  near  to  a  tracking 
wolf-dog  as  he  splashed  through  runlet  and 
pool.  Fluff -et-y-pluff,  pluff-et-y-pluff,  pluff- 
et-y-pluff,  he  drummed  softly,  and  the  panting 
hound,  muzzle  down,  followed  with  a  soft  swish, 
swish.  But  to  the  little  girl,  thinking  of  the 
bounty  for  gopher  brushes  that  her  big  brothers 
had  offered  her  the  day  before,  the  galloping 
echoed  a  different  song:  A-cent-for-a-tail, 
a-cent-for-a-tail,  a-cent-for-a-tail,  it  sang  in  her 
ears,  till  she  struck  the  pony  a  welt  on  the  flanks 
with  the  ends  of  her  long  rope  reins,  and  jerked 
his  head  impatiently  toward  the  shallow  ford 
that  led  to  the  home  of  the  Swede  boy. 

The  morning  before,  the  little  girl's  mother 
and  the  three  big  brothers  had  held  an  indig- 
nation meeting  in  the  timothy  meadow,  which, 
once  the  choicest  bit  of  hay  land  on  the  farm, 
was  now  so  thickly  strewn  with  wide,  brown 
gopher-mounds,  that  the  little  girl,  with  a  good 
running  start  down  the  barren  corn  strip,  could 
cross  it  without  touching  a  spear  of  grass,  by 
hopping  from  one  hillock  to  another.  But  while 
this  amused  her  very  much,  for  she  pretended 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  105 

tliat  the  knolls  were  muskrat  houses  in  a  deep, 
deep  slough,  it  only  enraged  her  mother  and 
the  big  brothers.  For  the  gray  gophers  had 
intrenched  themselves  so  well  in  the  timothy, 
and  had  thrown  up  such  damaging  earth- 
works, that  only  a  scythe  could  save  what  little 
hay  remained;  and  they  had  not  only  taken 
into  their  burrows— as  had  been  discovered 
the  week  before— all  the  freshly  dropped  seed 
from  the  barren  com  strip,  but  had  dug  up 
kernels  all  over  the  field  when  they  were  sprout- 
ing into  stalks. 

The  meadow  had  lain  fallow  the  summer 
before,  and  had  served  no  further  use  than  the 
grazing  of  some  picketed  cows.  Then,  one 
parching  July  day  it  had  been  cut,  to  kill  the 
thistles  and  pigweed  that  overran  it,  and  in  the 
following  May  had  been  plowed,  dragged,  and 
sown  to  wild  timothy.  The  few  mounds  dotting 
it  had  been  turned  under  with  the  belief  that, 
between  the  fallow  and  the  new  plowing,  the 
gophers  would  be  driven  out.  Instead,  they 
had  kept  to  their  burrows  and,  all  in  good  time, 
had  tripled  their  number. 

So,  as  the  little  girPs  mother  and  the  big 
brothers  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  timothy  and 
viewed  the  concave  stretch  that  should  have 
showed  green  and  waving  from  its  rim  to  the 
boggy  center,  they  planned  the  destruction  of 
the  rodents,  and  declared  that  if  any  escaped 


106    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

death  by  poison,  the  little  girl  should  snare 
them  and  receive  a  cent  for  each  tail. 

When  her  mother's  calico  slat-sunbonnet 
and  the  big  hats  of  her  big  brothers  had  bobbed 
out  of  sight  across  the  corn,  the  little  girl  sat 
down  upon  a  hillock  and  counted  gophers. 
But  there  were  so  many  and  they  ran  about  so 
much  that  she  could  not  keep  track  of  them; 
so  she  gave  it  up  soon  and  began  to  think  over 
all  the  things  she  would  buy  from  the  thick  cata- 
logue with  the  money  she  would  get  when  she 
had  snared  a  great  number. 

And  she  was  still  sitting  there,  watching  the 
gophers  covetously,  when  she  saw  the  eldest 
brother  returning.  He  had  a  salmon-can  full 
of  poisoned  wheat  in  one  hand,  and  when  he 
reached  the  meadow  he  made  a  circuit  and  left 
a  pinch  of  grain  at  the  mouths  of  a  score  of 
burrows,  where  the  greedy  animals  could  find 
it  and  cram  it  into  their  cheek-pouches,  and 
then  crawl  into  their  holes  to  die.  When  he 
had  distributed  all  the  grain,  he  threw  the 
salmon-can  away,  wiped  his  fingers  on  his  over- 
alls, and  started  for  the  watermelon  patch. 

The  little  girl  had  silently  withdrawn  into 
the  corn-field  at  his  approach,  but  now  she  came 
out  and,  after  satisfying  herself  that  he  was  out 
of  sight,  picked  up  the  can  and  also  made  a 
circuit  of  the  meadow.  Strangely  enough,  she 
stopped  at  the  very  burrows  he  had  visited. 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  107 

When  she  was  done,  she  went  to  the  boggy  cen- 
ter, found  a  deep  cow  track  that  was  half  full 
of  water,  and  carefully  emptied  the  can  into  it. 
Then  she  took  it  hack  to  where  the  eldest  bro- 
ther had  thrown  it,  and,  with  a  look  toward  the 
watermelon  patch,  went  home. 

On  his  way  back  to  the  farm-house,  the  eldest 
brother  paused  in  the  timothy  to  see  if  the  go- 
phers had  eaten  of  the  poisoned  grain.  He 
was  delighted  to  find,  on  going  from  hill  to 
hill,  that  not  a  single  kernel  was  visible!  He 
imparted  the  good  news  to  the  family  at  the 
dinner-table,  and  it  was  received  with  rejoicing. 
The  little  girl  alone  was  silent.  But,  doubtless, 
she  had  not  heard  what  he  said,  for  she  was 
intent  upon  a  huge  piece  of  dried-prune  cob- 
bler. 

That  afternoon  she  went  out  to  the  bam  to 
get  some  hair  for  a  slipping-noose.  Kate,  the 
raw-boned  cultivator  horse,  standing  idle  in 
her  stall,  turned  her  head  and  nickered  when 
she  heard  the  door  creak  open,  expecting  a 
nibble  of  sugar-bread.  But  the  little  girl  had 
nothing  for  her.  Instead,  she  rolled  a  dry-goods 
box  into  an  adjoining  stall,  climbed  upon  it,  and, 
reaching  over  the  rough  board  side,  got  hold 
of  Kate's  long  black  tail. 

The  mare  flattened  her  ears  back,  stamped 
crossly,  and  swayed  her  hind  quarters  against 
the  opposite  partition.    But  the  little  girl  only 


108    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

clung  the  tighter  and,  unmindful  in  her  secu- 
rity, chose  and  pulled  out  a  dozen  of  the  long- 
est hairs  she  could  find.  Then,  jumping  down, 
she  arranged  them,  ends  together,  hooked  them 
over  a  nail  at  their  center,  and  plaited  them. 
And  when  she  had  tied  a  piece  of  stout,  dark 
string  to  the  end  of  the  braid,  she  slipped  it 
through  the  hair  loop.  The  next  moment,  with 
a  stick  in  one  hand  and  the  snare  in  the  other, 
she  started  happily  for  the  meadow. 

When  she  reached  it,  saucy  chur-r-rs  from  all 
over  the  timothy  announced  her.  And  as  she 
paused  on  its  edge  to  decide  which  burrow 
she  would  attack  first,  a  dozen  gophers  sat  up 
on  their  haunches  to  look  at  her,  or  frisked 
gaily  from  mound  to  mound. 

She  caught  sight  of  a  gray  back  at  a  near-by 
hole,  and,  running  forward,  chased  the  animal 
out  of  sight,  stooped  and  carefully  arranged 
the  noose  around  the  opening,  and,  after  cover- 
ing it  with  dirt,  straightened  the  string  to  its 
full  length.  Then  she  crept  back  noiselessly 
to  the  hole  to  take  a  last  peep  before  she  threw 
herself  down  flat  upon  her  stomach,  grasped 
the  end  of  the  string,  and  lay  very  still. 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  movement  at  the 
burrow.  But  soon  the  tip  end  of  a  gopher's 
nose  appeared,  the  whiskers  moving  inquir- 
ingly, and  disappeared.  When  it  came  again, 
the  little  girl  whistled  a  note  softly,  and  the 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  109 

nose  came  out  so  far  that  two  sharp  black 
eyes  showed.  The  eyes  saw  her,  too,  and  the 
gopher,  growing  bolder  and  more  inquisitive, 
raised  himself  higher  on  his  fore  paws  to  take 
a  better  look.  Presently  all  of  his  white  throat 
was  visible,  and  the  little  girl  knew  that  it  was 
time  to  act.  "With  one  quick,  vigorous  jerk  of 
her  extended  right  arm,  she  tightened  the  loop 
around  him.  And,  amid  a  whirl  of  dirt,  gray 
tail,  and  tawny  back,  the  gopher  was  pulled  out 
into  the  timothy. 

The  little  girl  sat  upon  her  knees  and  looked 
at  him.  Her  heart  was  beating  wildly,  and  she 
was  almost  as  scared  as  the  panting  creature 
at  the  end  of  her  string.  He  held  the  snare 
taut  as  he  crouched  in  a  bunch  of  grass  and 
watched  her.  Finally,  she  pulled  at  it  a  little. 
It  brought  him  toward  her,  reluctantly  sliding 
along  on  his  feet,  which  he  braced  stiffly.  Then, 
as  she  pulled  again,  he  began  to  tug  madly,  and 
clattered  in  alarm. 

^^Seek—seek!^^  he  cried,  twisting  and  turn- 
ing his  lithe  body;  '^ seek— seek— seek! ^^  The 
next  instant  he  took  the  string  into  his  mouth 
and  bit  it  ferociously. 

The  little  girl  paled  at  the  sight,  and  arose 
trembling  to  her  feet.  This  shortened  the 
snare,  and  the  gopher  came  nearer,  tumbling 
over  and  over  through  the  grass.  Remembering 
her  stick,  the  little  girl  backed  slowly  toward  it, 


::::> 


110    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

not  taking  her  eyes  off  him  for  an  instant. 
But,  as  she  retreated,  the  string  tightened  again, 
and  the  gopher  advanced  as  before.  The  little 
girl,  still  too  far  from  the  stick,  trembled  more 
than  ever  at  his  wild  cries,  and  her  hand  shook 
so  that  she  could  hardly  hold  the  snare.  He 
was  attacking  it  with  all  his  might,  bounding 
into  the  air  and,  blindly  fearless  in  his  danger, 
coming  toward  her  faster  than  she  could  step 
backward. 

A  moment  she  paused,  shaking  her  apron  to 
try  to  scare  him.  But  as,  hissing  and  fighting, 
he  rolled  against  her  bare  feet,  she  dropped 
the  string,  turned  her  face  from  the  meadow— 
and  fled ! 

EvEKY  Sunday  afternoon  the  Swede  boy  came 
to  the  farm-house  and,  squatting  opposite  the 
little  girl  as  she  sat  enthroned  upon  the  lounge 
in  all  the  glory  of  a  stiff  Turkey-red  dress,  eyed 
her  furtively  while  her  mother  read  aloud  the 
story  of  Mazeppa.  His  pale  eyes,  under  their 
heavy  white  brows,  never  wavered  from  her 
face,  even  during  the  most  stirring  danger  to 
the  Cossack  chief.  Upon  these  occasions  the 
little  girl 's  mind  wandered,  too ;  for  the  tale  of 
bravery  recalled  the  colonel's  son  at  the  army 
post,  the  pride  of  the  troop,  who,  in  campaign 
hat,  yellow-striped  trousers,  and  snug,  bright- 
buttoned  coat,  was  a  sturdy  military  figure. 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  111 

And  had  the  Swede  boy  known  it,  he  was  less 
to  her  than  a  cockle-bur  in  her  blind  black 
pony's  tail. 

But  youth  is  fickle  and  the  reservation  was 
far.  So,  when  the  rain  was  over  next  morn- 
ing, she  ran  to  the  barn,  bridled  her  horse, 
climbed  from  the  manger  to  his  back,  and, 
lying  flat  to  escape  the  top  casing  of  the  door, 
went  out  of  the  stable  toward  the  Swede  shanty 
at  a  run.  Down  deep  in  the  long,  narrow,  jack- 
knife  pocket  of  her  apron  lay  a  new  gopher 
snare,  culled,  as  before,  from  the  tail  of  the 
cultivator  mare. 

As  she  scoured  across  the  prairie,  her  hair 
whipping  her  shoulders  and  her  skirts  fluttering 
gaily,  the  last  few  clouds  in  the  sky,  white  and 
almost  empty,  dispersed  tearfully  above  the  dis- 
tant forks  of  the  Vermillion.  And  when  the  river 
was  reached  and  forded,  and  the  steep  bank 
climbed  on  the  other  side,  a  drying  wind  that 
had  sprung  up  promised,  with  the  sun,  to  pre- 
pare the  timothy  for  that  afternoon's  snaring. 

The  Swede  boy  listened  silently  while  the 
little  girl  unfolded  her  plan,  and,  after  she  had 
finished,  waited  a  long  time  before  speaking. 
His  pale  eyes  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  ground, 
and  the  little  girl,  still  mounted  on  her  pony, 
could  not  see  whether  or  not  they  approved  of 
the  scheme. 

**"Who  gates  th'  mownayT'  he  asked  at  last. 


112    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  little  girl  hesitated  before  answering, 
struggling  with  greed. 

*'Bofe  of  us?'^  she  faltered. 

The  Swede  boy  grunted. 

**You  catch  'em  and  kill  'em,"  said  the  little 
girl,  *^and  I  '11  snip  off  their  tails.  'Cause  my 
biggest  brother  says  gray  gophers  don't  worry 
no  more  'bout  losin'  their  tails  than  tad- 
poles do." 

He  grunted  again,  and  the  little  girl,  eager 
and  impatient,  turned  the  blind  black  pony 
about  in  circles. 

**Ay  catch  'em,  ay  kill  'em,"  the  Swede  boy 
said  finally.  There  was  a  significant  tone  in 
his  voice,  and  a  gleam  in  the  pale  eyes  under 
the  tow  hair.  **An'  yo'  gate  th'  mownay,"  he 
added. 

They  were  on  the  edge  of  the  timothy  mea- 
dow as  soon  as  the  pony,  with  his  double  load, 
could  cover  the  distance.  And  while  the  little 
girl  tied  the  horse  to  a  big  stone  on  the  slope 
of  the  carnelian  bluff,  the  Swede  boy  hastened 
to  a  gopher-hole  and  fixed  the  noose  about  it. 
A  moment  later,  when  she  came  stealthily  run- 
ning up  behind  him,  he  was  already  flat  upon 
the  ground  and  waiting. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  gopher  poked  his 
nose  out  to  see  if  his  pursuer  was  near,  and, 
catching  sight  of  a  ragged  felt  hat  just  above 
a  clump  of  pigweed,  stood  up  to  investigate. 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  113 

The  next  instant  the  Swede  boy  had  him  and, 
springing  to  his  feet,  cast  a  triumphant  look 
behind.  But  what  was  his  amazement  to  see 
the  little  girl,  bareheaded,  fast  disappearing 
through  the  corn ! 

When  she  came  slowly  back,  the  Swede  boy 
was  again  stretched  upon  his  stomach,  and 
watching  a  hole  nearer  the  center  of  the  mea- 
dow. The  little  girl  did  not  follow  him,  but 
stayed  on  the  rim  and  pityingly  viewed  the 
limp  gopher  that  lay,  with  eyes  half  closed, 
breast  still,  and  tail  thin  and  lifeless. 

*  ^  Poor  fing ! ' '  she  said  sympathetically,  *  4t  's 
'cause  you  stealed  the  corn.'* 

Then  she  opened  his  mouth  with  the  butt  end 
of  her  willow  riding-switch,  to  find  out  what 
he  had  in  his  cheek-pouches.  An  onion  and 
a  few  marrowfat  peas  rolled  out,  and  the  little 
girl,  kneeling  beside  him,  eyed  him  sternly. 

^^And  so,''  she  said,  waving  her  hand  toward 
the  barren  strip,  **  after  pickin'  up  all  that  corn, 
you  gophers  have  to  go  a-snoopin'  round  the 
vegetable  patch!" 

She  left  him  and  went  on  to  the  corn-marker, 
his  tail,  taken  in  righteous  wrath,  bearing  her 
jack-knife  company  in  the  long,  narrow  pocket 
of  her  apron.  But  when  she  had  sat  down 
musingly,  her  chin  in  her  hands,  a  strange 
thing  happened  to  the  dead  gopher  on  the  mea- 
dow rim.    He  moved  a  little,  slowly  unclosed 


114    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

his  eyes,  raised  his  head,  and  looked  about ;  and, 
unseen  by  the  Swede  boy  and  the  little  girl, 
crawled  away,  through  the  clods  that  had  only 
stunned  him,  to  the  corn-field,  where,  with  many 
a  cross  seek,  he  nursed  the  hairy  stump  that 
henceforth  was  to  serve  him  for  a  tail. 

Dinnerless,  but  forgetful  of  hunger  in  the 
sport  of  capture,  the  little  girl  and  the  Swede 
boy  stayed  on.  Once,  during  the  afternoon,  a 
gopher  stopped  their  work  by  getting  away  with 
the  snare  and  leaving  them  only  half  of  the 
string.  But  the  blind  black  pony  good-na- 
turedly furnished  enough  wiry  strands  for  an- 
other slipping-noose,  and  the  hunt  went  on. 

On  their  way  to  the  farm-house  at  sundown, 
they  passed  the  spot  where  the  Swede  boy  had 
left  his  first  capture,  but  failed  to  find  him  any- 
where. 

**l\Tiy,  he  's  runned  away!*'  exclaimed  the 
little  girl. 

The  Swede  boy  shook  his  head.  **Noa;  ay 
keel  hame  weeth  a  clode,''  he  said,  ** an'  a  bole- 
snake  gote  hame. ' ' 

They  had  many  a  stout  noose  stolen  during 
the  days  that  followed.  But  the  Swede  boy 
snared  plenty  of  gray  gophers,  and  they  all 
shared  the  fate  of  the  first  one,— lost  their 
tails  and  were  left  to  lie  on  the  edge  of  the 
ruined  meadow.  When  the  spot  was  visited 
afterward,  it  was  generally  found  that  they  had 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  115 

disappeared.  But  this  did  not  trouble  the  little 
girl,  for  she  wisely  concluded  that  the  bull- 
snakes  were  having  a  fat  time  of  it. 

The  night  before  the  three  big  brothers  left 
with  the  thrashers,  the  string  of  gopher-tails 
was  so  long  that  she  brought  it  into  the  kitchen 
and  gave  it  proudly  to  the  eldest  brother  to 
count.  Then  it  was  put  into  a  twist  of  hay  and 
shoved  into  the  cook-stove. 

*^Goin'  to  give  some  of  them  pennies  to  th' 
Swede  ? ' '  asked  the  youngest  brother  as  the  lit- 
tle girl  sat  down  at  the  table  and  began  to  add 
up  her  earnings. 

She  flushed,  but  did  not  answer. 

' '  Naw, ' '  said  the  eldest  brother.  ' '  Why,  th ' 
Swede  's  not  catchin^  gophers  for  money;  he  ^s 
doin'  it  for  love.'' 

The  little  girl  gathered  up  her  pennies  an- 
grily and  went  to  her  room.  But,  next  morning, 
when  the  Swede  boy's  whistle  sounded  from 
the  meadow,  she  mounted  her  pony  and  went 
down.  For  the  biggest  brother  had  whispered 
to  her  this  word  of  philosophy:  *^ Might  jus'  as 
well  get  th'  game  with  th'  name." 

For  several  nights  after  the  departure  of  the 
big  brothers,  the  little  girl  came  home  radiant, 
brushes  dangling  from  her  apron  ruffle  like 
scalps.  Then,  one  evening,  when  four  catches 
should  have  made  her  happy,  she  ate  her  supper 
with  a  sad  and  puzzled  face,  and  afterward 


116    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

added  only  two  tails  to  her  string.  Her  mother, 
seeing  that  something  was  troubling  her,  in- 
quired what  it  was;  but,  on  hearing  the  story, 
went  into  such  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter  that  the 
little  girPs  feelings  were  hurt  very  much,  and 
she  went  to  bed  on  the  instant.  She  did  not 
broach  the  subject  again.  But  while  the  two 
weeks  of  her  big  brothers'  absence  were  pass- 
ing, she  was  often  dejected. 

After  supper,  the  first  night  of  their  return, 
when  the  benches  were  still  drawn  up  around 
the  table,  and  the  big  brothers,  tired  with  their 
long  ride,  were  pulling  at  their  corn-cob  pipes, 
the  little  girl  went  up  to  the  eldest  and  touched 
him  timidly  on  the  arm. 

*^Well,  youngster,''  he  said,  **how  many  go- 
phers have  you  snared  since  we  've  been  gone  ? ' ' 

The  little  girl  got  red  suddenly,  and  hesi- 
tated before  she  spoke.  * '  Sixty, ' '  she  answered, 
half  under  her  breath. 

The  biggest  brother  took  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth  in  mock  astonishment.  *  *  Sixty ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. *^Why,  geewhitaker!  you  '11  break 
the  bank  if  you  don 't  look  out ! ' ' 

The  eldest  brother  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  took  out  some  change.  **Get  the 
string, ' '  he  said,  *  *  and  here  's  your  money. ' ' 

The  little  girl  looked  at  the  coins  mournfully, 
and  then  around  the  circle,  and  stepped  back 
a  few  paces.    **You  won't  b'lieve  me  when  you 


TWICE  IN  JEOPARDY  117 

see  it,"  she  said.  She  went  out  and  came  back 
presently,  holding  up  the  tails. 

The  eldest  brother  took  them  out  of  her  hand, 
and  she  stood  silently  by  while  he  counted  them. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  looked  at  her  crossly. 
*^ Sixty!''  he  sneered.  ^^You  have  n't  caught 
no  such  thing!  Here  's  only  twenty."  He 
waved  the  brushes  in  the  air,  and  the  little  girl 
trembled  visibly.  *  *  Did  you  think  I  'd  pay  you 
for  sixty,"  he  continued,  ^^when  you  ain't  got 
the  tails  to  show  for  'em?" 

The  little  girl  trembled  more  than  ever. 
** Honest,"  she  said;  ^^ honest!  We  caught 
sixty —we  did,  truly— ' ' 

**  Where  are  their  tails,  then?  where  are  their 
tails?"  asked  the  eldest  brother,  impatiently, 
shaking  the  string  so  violently  that  some  of  the 
brushes  fell  off.  *^You  say  you  ^id—hut  what 
have  you  got  to  show  for.  ^emf ' ' 

The  little  girl  came  closer,  her  eyes  wide  and 
earnest.  She  was  breathing  hard  and  she 
lowered  her  voice  as  she  answered. 

*^True  as  cross  my  heart  to  die,"  she  said, 
**we  caught  sixty;  but  this  was  all  the  string 
I  could  get.  'Cause— 'cause— there  's  a  new 
kind  of  gophers  in  the  timothy  meadow,— aw6? 
they  ainH  got  tails!'' 


vm 

A  HARVEST  WEDDING 

THE  wedding  of  one  of  the  Dutchman's 
seven  stout  daughters  to  a  young  farmer 
who  lived  in  a  dugout  on  the  West  Fork  was 
an  event  in  the  little  girPs  life  only  second  in 
importance  to  the  christening.  Two  trips  to 
Yankton  on  the  wheat-wagon  with  the  biggest 
brother  shrank  into  insignificance  before  it, 
and  she  looked  forward  to  its  celebration  so 
anxiously  that  time  dragged  as  slowly  as  a 
week  before  Christmas. 

The  morning  of  the  notable  day  she  was 
unable  to  eat  anything  through  sheer  excite- 
ment. She  passed  the  hours  after  breakfast 
in  restless  riding  over  the  barley  stubble,  where 
the  sheep,  led  by  a  black  bell-wether  who 
sought  the  fields  because  they  were  forbidden 
ground,  were  mincing  and  picking  their  way. 
At  eleven  she  happily  welcomed  a  gallop  to  the 
farthest  end  of  the  farm  to  carry  doughnuts 
and  ginger-beer  to  the  big  brothers.  At 
dinner-time  her  appetite  was  again  poor,  but 
later,  after  making  enough  hay-twists  for  her 

118 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  119 

mother's  baking,  she  scraped  the  cake-batter 
dish  clean  and  partook  freely  of  several  yards 
of  red  apple  peelings. 

The  big  brothers  came  in  early  from  the 
fields  to  rest  and  get  ready,  and,  one  by  one, 
spent  half  an  hour  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  big 
wooden  wash-tub  held  the  center  of  the  room. 
When  it  came  time  for  the  little  girl  to  take 
a  bath,  the  kitchen  floor  looked  like  a  duck 
pond,  for  the  tub  was  almost  floating,  and  the 
well  outside  was  noticeably  low.  At  sunset 
the  family  sat  down  to  a  supper  suggestive  of 
the  wedding  feast  to  come.  But  though  there 
were  toothsome  sandwiches  on  the  table  and 
cream  popovers,  not  to  speak  of  a  heaping  dish 
of  watermelon  sweet-pickles,  the  little  girl 
again  did  not  feel  like  eating,  and  only  nibbled 
at  a  piece  of  raisin-pie  when  her  mother,  not 
realizing  how  satisfying  the  batter  and  peel- 
ings had  been,  threatened  her  with  staying  at 
home.  After  supper  the  big  brothers  hitched 
the  gray  team  to  the  light  wagon,  fastened 
up  the  chicken-coops,  latched  the  bam  door 
and  chained  the  dogs ;  and,  having  finished  the 
chores,  blacked  each  other's  boots,  brushed 
their  hair  slick  with  water,  changed  their 
clothes  and  resigned  themselves  to  their  mo- 
ther, who  put  the  last  touches  to  their  collars 
and  ties.  Then,  just  as  a  faint  bugle-call, 
sounding  the  advance,  was  heard  from  across 


120    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  prairie  to  the  west,  the  family  climbed  into 
the  wagon. 

On  the  trip  down,  the  eldest  and  youngest 
brothers  sat  in  front  and  drove.  Their  mother 
and  the  biggest  brother  occupied  the  hind  seat 
and  looked  after  the  piccalilli  and  pies,  which 
they  held  on  their  laps.  So  the  little  girl  had 
to  content  herself  with  staying  in  the  back  of 
the  wagon  on  an  armful  of  hay  and  letting 
her  feet  dangle  out  behind.  As  the  team 
trotted  south  over  the  rough  path  that,  at  the 
school-house,  joined  another  leading  to  the 
Dutchman 's,  she  clung  to  the  side  boards  in  im- 
patient silence,  her  eyes  turned  across  the 
sloughs  toward  the  Vermilion,  where,  through 
the  starlight,  were  coming  the  chaplain,  some 
troopers,  and  the  colonel's  son. 

It  was  a  still  night,  and  the  family  could  hear 
other  wagons  approaching  from  various  direc- 
tions, the  distant  whinnying  of  ponies  travel- 
ing singly,  the  barking  of  the  Dutchman's 
dogs,  and  the  thudding  gallop  of  the  nearing 
cavalry  mounts;  and  when  they  arrived  the 
same  shouts  that  greeted  them  welcomed  a 
score  of  their  neighbors  and  the  dusty  army 
men. 

The  moments  that  followed  were  memorable 
ones  to  the  little  girl.  Standing  by  on  tiptoe, 
with  only  the  neighbor  woman  between  her 
and  the  colonel's  son,  she  saw  the  chaplain 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  121 

unite  the  Dutchman's  daughter  and  the  young 
farmer.  The  ceremony  took  place  in  the  yard, 
so  that  all  might  witness  it,  and  the  biggest 
brother  held  the  lantern  by  which  the  chaplain 
read  from  his  prayer-book.  The  guests  gath- 
ered about  quietly,  and  listened  reverently  to  the 
service  and  to  the  prayer  for  health  and  hap- 
piness in  the  dugout  home  on  the  Fork.  And 
when  the  kissing,  handshaking,  and  congratu- 
lations were  over,  they  moved  across  the  yard 
to  the  kitchen  door,  where  they  drank  hearty 
toasts  to  the  bride,  in  coffee-cups  foaming  high 
with  beer.  Then  the  married  men  took  their 
wives,  and  the  unmarried,  their  sweethearts, 
and  went  into  the  house  to  open  the  party. 

The  Dutchman's  habitation  was  different 
from  his  neighbors '  homes.  One  roof  sheltered 
his  family,  his  oxen  and  his  cows,  his  harvested 
crops,  his  poultry  and  his  pigs.  It  was  a  shanty 
roof,  and  it  covered  a  long,  sod  building  that 
began,  at  the  river  end,  with  the  sitting-room, 
continued  through  the  bedroom,  the  kitchen, 
the  granary,  the  stable,  and  the  chicken-coop, 
and  was  completed  by  the  pig-house.  The 
Dutchman,  his  wife,  and  their  daughters  could 
go  back  and  forth  from  the  best  room  to  the 
beasts  without  leaving  its  cover.  So,  no  matter 
how  deep  the  snow  was,  the  cattle  never  lacked 
for  fodder,  the  hens  for  feed,  or  the  hogs  for 
their  mash,  a  boiler  of  which,  sour  and  fumy, 


122    BIOaRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

cooked  winter  and  summer  upon  the  kitchen 
stove;  and,  when  the  fiercest  of  blizzards  was 
blowing,  the  family  were  in  no  danger  of  get- 
ting lost  between  the  house  and  the  barn. 

The  three  rooms  of  the  building  that  were 
nearest  the  Vermilion,  though  given  different 
names,  were  really  all  bedrooms.  A  high  four- 
poster  of  unplaned  boards  stood  against  the 
low  back  wall  of  the  sitting-room,  beneath  the 
rack  that  held  the  Dutchman's  pipes;  the 
sleeping-room,  which  the  four  eldest  children 
occupied,  held  two  smaller  beds;  and  in  the 
kitchen— where  the  family  ate  their  breakfasts 
of  coffee-cake  and  barley-coffee,  their  dinners 
of  souse  and  vegetables  and  hard  bread  broken 
into  a  pan  of  clabbered  milk,  and  supped,  with- 
out plates,  around  a  deep  bowl  of  stew— was 
a  wide  couch  that  belonged  to  the  youngest 
three. 

But  on  the  night  of  the  wedding  the  first 
two  rooms  were  empty,  except  for  benches,  the 
beds  having  been  taken  down  early  in  the  day 
and  piled  up  beside  the  hay-stacks  back  of  the 
stable.  The  couch  in  the  kitchen  was  left  in 
its  place,  however,  and  was  covered  from  head 
to  foot  with  babies. 

The  house  was  lighted  by  barn  lanterns,  hung 
out  of  the  way  under  the  shingles  at  the  upper 
ends  of  the  bare,  sloping  roof -joists,  and  their 
dull  flames,  that  leaped  and  dipped  with  the 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  123 

moving  feet  beneath  them,  shone  upon  walls 
clean  and  bright  in  a  fresh  layer  of  newspa- 
pers, and  revealed,  to  whomever  cast  a  look 
upward,  the  parcels  of  herbs,  seeds,  and  sew- 
ing thrust  here  and  there  in  handy  crevices  of 
the  brown,  cobwebbed  ceiling. 

The  Dutchman's  neighbors  crowded  the 
rooms  to  the  doors.  In  the  kitchen  were  the 
older  women,  keeping  watch  over  the  couch 
and,  at  the  same  time,  with  busy  clatter  in  a 
half-dozen  tongues,  unwrapping  the  edibles 
brought  for  the  wedding  supper.  In  the  door- 
way between  the  other  rooms  sat  the  eldest 
brother  playing  his  fiddle,  the  Irishman  twang- 
ing a  jews'-harp^  and  *^Frenchy'*  with  the 
bones;  and  on  each  side  of  them  danced  the 
guests. 

The  newly  made  bride  and  her  husband  led 
the  quadrille  in  the  sitting-room,  opposite  a 
trooper  and  the  neighbor  woman;  the  Swede 
had  as  his  partner  the  new  teacher,  a  young 
lady  from  St.  Paul;  and  the  biggest  brother 
had  his  mother.  Above  them,  as  they  prome- 
naded, balanced,  and  swung,  waved  the  black 
felt  hat  that  the  Dutchman  had  worn  when  he 
took  his  long  trip  over  the  prairie  to  invite 
them.  Each  family  he  visited  had  pinned  a 
ribbon  to  its  rim ;  and  now  it  swayed  back  and 
forth,  a  gay  and  varicolored  challenge  to  the 
hands  reached  out  to  grasp  it. 


124    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  army  chaplain  was  in  the  next  room; 
and,  as  the  quadrille  closed  in  a  roistering 
polka  and  a  waltz  struck  up,  he  clapped  in  time 
to  the  couples  that  were  circling  before  him, 
their  hands  on  each  other's  shoulders,  and  their 
voices  joining  merrily  with  the  music: 

"In  Lauterbach  haV  ich  mein  Stnmif  verlor'n, 
Und  ohne  Strumf  geh'  ich  nicht  heim ; 
Ich  gehe  doch  wieder  zu  Lauterbach  hin 
TJnd  kaiif'  mir  ein  Strumf  f iir  mein  Bein." 

Now  and  then  a  couple  drew  aside  and  sat 
down  a  moment  to  rest.  But  soon  they  were 
back  on  the  floor  again,  whirling  and  laughing 
and  stamping  their  feet,  and  raising  clouds  of 
dust  from  the  rough  plank  floors  to  their  scarlet 
faces. 

Out  of  doors  there  was  less  noise,  but  no  lack 
of  fun.  Smudge  fires  burned  in  a  wide  circle 
about  the  house  to  repel  the  hungry  mosqui- 
tos  that,  with  high,  monotonous  battle-songs, 
stormed  the  smoky  barrier  between  them  and 
the  inner  circle  of  horses  and  oxen  feeding 
from  wagon-boxes.  Nearer  the  building,  and 
set  about  the  carefully  raked  yard  on  barrels 
and  boxes,  were  Jack-o'-lanterns  made  of 
pumpkins,  that  gave  out  the  uncertain,  flicker- 
ing light  of  tallow  dips  through  their  goggle- 
eyes  and  grinning  mouths. 

In  and  out  among  the  wagons,  fires,  and 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  125 

lanterns  the  children  were  playing  hide-and- 
go-seek,  screaming  with  excitement  as  they 
scampered  in  every  direction  to  secrete  them- 
selves, or  lying  still  and  breathless  as  the  hoy 
who  was  *4f  hunted  them  cautiously,  with 
one  eye  searching  for  moving  shadows  and  the 
other  fixed  upon  the  wagon-wheel  that  was  the 
goal.  On  being  sent  out  of  the  house  to  give 
the  dancers  room,  the  boys  had  raised  a  joyous 
clamor  over  their  banishment,  and  begun  a 
game  of  crack-the-whip ;  while  the  girls,  not 
wishing  to  soil  their  clothes,  had  walked  to  and 
fro  in  front  of  the  house,  with  their  arms 
around  each  other,  and  watched  the  dancing. 
But  when  the  Swede  boy,  who  was  chosen  for 
the  snapper,  was  so  worn  and  breathless  with 
being  popped  from  the  end  of  the  rushing  line 
that  he  could  run  no  longer,  boys  and  girls  had 
joined  in  playing  tag  and  blindman 's-buff  and, 
afterward,  hide-and-go-seek. 

The  little  girl  was  with  them.  But,  so  far, 
in  spite  of  her  white  dress,  which  made  her  an 
easy  prey,  she  had  not  been  caught.  The  boys 
who  had  taken  their  turns  at  the  wheel  had 
caught  other  boys  whom  she  did  not  know ;  and 
had  always  managed  to  find  and,  with  much 
struggling,  kiss  the  particular  girls  they  fa- 
vored. No  matter  how  conspicuously  she  had 
hidden,  they  had  always  passed  her  by.  As  a 
result,  after  two  or  three  disappointments,  she 


126    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

had  not  taken  the  trouble  of  running  to  cover, 
but  had  either  lingered  just  within  the  sitting- 
room  to  watch  the  dancing,  or  hung  wistfully 
about  the  yard,  somewhere  near  the  colonel's 
son. 

**Frenchy's*'  brother  was  now  guarding  the 
goal,  and  the  little  girl  was  ambushed  behind 
the  very  straw-pile  that  concealed  the  colonel's 
son.  It  was  an  occasion  that  she  had  looked 
forward  to  and  secretly  brought  to  pass,  yet,  as 
she  knelt  close  beside  him,  she  could  not  think 
of  one  of  the  poUte  things  she  had  planned  to 
say  to  him  that  night'.  Their  proximity  struck 
her  dumb,  while  he  was  silent  through  fear  of 
being  discovered.  So  they  cowered  together, 
speechless  and  restive,  until  the  Swede  boy 
tore  by  in  an  unsuccessful  race  for  the  wagon- 
wheel.  Then  the  colonel 's  son  darted  out  from 
behind  the  straw,  and  she  remained  regretfully 
looking  after  his  blue-clad  form. 

All  at  once  her  meditations  were  rudely 
intermpted.  **Frenchy's"  brother,  skulking 
here  and  there  on  the  lookout  for  a  bright,  tell- 
tale apron,  came  round  the  pile  and  pounced 
upon  her.  *  *  Forf  eet !  f  orf  eet ! "  he  cried,  drag- 
ging her  out  into  the  middle  of  the  yard. 

She  tried  to  pull  away  from  him,  and  twisted 
her  head  so  that  her  face  was  out  of  reach. 
*'You  stop,"  she  cried  hotly;  **you  jus'  stop!" 

The  struggle  was  sweet  to  him,  however,  and 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  127 

he  only  laughed  at  her  angry  commands  and 
fought  harder  than  ever  for  his  due,  striving 
at  every  turn  to  pin  her  arms  down  so  that  she 
could  not  resist.  The  boys  ran  up  to  urge  him 
on,  and  the  girls  hopped  up  and  down  in  their 
enjoyment  of  the  scuflfle. 

But  he  was  not  able  to  win  in  the  contest. 
The  little  girl  was  a  match  for  him.  What  she 
lacked  in  strength  she  made  up  in  nimbleness, 
and  she  stood  her  ground  fiercely,  wrestling  on 
until,  with  a  quick,  furious  wrench,  she  freed 
herself  from  his  hold  and  bolted  toward  the 
kitchen. 

**Frenchy's''  brother  pursued  her.  But, 
once  inside,  she  was  safe,  for  he  dared  not  enter 
and  scramble  across  the  couch  to  where  she 
had  sought  refuge  by  a  window.  So  he  turned 
back  toward  the  goal.  ^'I  get  you  yet,''  he 
shouted,  wiping  his  damp  face  on  his  shirt 
sleeve. 

The  other  children  gathered  about  him  and 
taunted  him  with  his  failure.  To  right  himself 
in  their  eyes  he  set  after  one  of  the  Dutchman 's 
girls,  who  shook  off  her  wooden  shoes  and  fled 
frantically  in  circles  to  evade  him.  But  he 
succeeded  in  catching  her  and  taking  a  forfeit 
from  one  of  her  sun-bleached  braids,  after 
which  he  went  to  the  wagon  and  sat  down  on 
the  tongue  to  rest. 

The  game  went  on.    It  was  the  Swede  boy's 


128    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

turn  at  the  goal,  and  he  put  his  hands  over  his 
face  and  began  to  count  as  the  children  scat- 
tered. ^^Tane,  twanety,  thirty,  forty,  feefty,'' 
he  chanted,  **seexty,  saventy,  eighty.''  As  he 
told  the  numbers  he  stealthily  watched  the 
kitchen  window  where  the  little  girl  stood. 

The  neighbor  woman's  boy,  who  was  in  hid- 
ing under  the  wagon  and  almost  at  his  feet,  saw 
him  peeking  through  his  fingers  and  jumped 
out  to  denounce  him.  *  *  King 's  ex,  king 's  ex ! " 
he  cried,  holding  up  one  hand.  *  *  It  's  no  fair ; 
he  's  looking." 

**Ay  bane  note,"  declared  the  Swede  boy, 
stoutly,  wheeling  about;  **yo  late  may  alone." 

**You  are,  too,"  persisted  the  other,  spring- 
ing away  to  hide  again. 

The  Swede  boy  once  more  resumed  his  chant- 
ing, and  the  little  girl,  as  she  leaned  from  her 
vantage-point  to  listen,  wished  that  she  might 
return  to  the  yard  and  take  part  in  the  game. 
But  ^'Frenchy's"  brother,  though  tired  with 
his  struggles,  was  still  sitting  menacingly  on 
the  wagon  tongue,  and  she  dared  not  leave  her 
cover. 

Suddenly  the  sight  of  a  slat  sunbonnet,  hang- 
ing on  a  nail  beside  her,  suggested  a  means  of 
circumventing  him.  She  took  it  down  and  put 
it  on,  tying  the  strings  under  her  chin  in  a  hard 
double  knot.  The  long,  stiff  pasteboard  slats 
buried  her  face  completely,  and  nobody  but 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  129 

Luffree,  with  his  sharp  muzzle,  could  have 
reached  her  cheeks  to  kiss  them.  So  she  sallied 
bravely  into  the  yard. 

The  Swede  boy  had  been  counting  slowly  in 
the  hope  that  she  would  hide,  and  when  he  saw 
her  approaching  he  paused  a  moment,  expect- 
ing ^^Frenchy's'^  brother  to  renew  the  attack. 
But  the  figure  on  the  tongue  never  moved,  even 
when  the  little  girl,  with  a  saucy  swish  of  her 
skirts,  paused  daringly  near  it.  So  he  sang  out 
his  last  call: 

*'  Boshel  of  wheat,  bosh  el  of  raye, 
Who  ain't  radey,  holer  'Ay/'' 

**I,'*  shouted  the  little  girl,  whisking  tri- 
umphantly away,  and  the  Swede  boy  began  to 
count  again. 

She  entered  the  house,  going  in  at  the  sitting- 
room.  He  followed  her  movements  as  she 
threaded  her  way  through  the  dancers  toward 
the  empty  granary,  and  saw  her  sunbonnet 
pass  the  bedroom  window  and  the  open 
kitchen  door.  Then  once  more  he  sent  out 
the  last  call.  This  time  there  was  no  response. 
So,  after  a  hasty  examination  of  the  wagon,  he 
l)egan  to  creep  about  with  an  impressive  show 
of  hunting. 

Often  he  came  upon  a  new  calico  dress  trail- 
ing in  a  dusty  place,  but  passed  its  wearer  by 
as  if  he  had  not  seen  her.    He  surprised  the 


130    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

colonePs  son  curled  up  in  a  box  beneath  a 
Jack-o  ^-lantern,  and  distanced  him  to  the 
wagon.  Then  he  went  on  searching  for  a  girl, 
and  the  boys,  clustered  about  the  wheel, 
watched  him  as  he  sneaked  through  the  yard. 
Finally,  when  he  judged  that  enough  time  had 
passed  to  warrant  it,  he  made  a  wider  search 
that  brought  him  close  to  the  granary  door. 

His  courage  almost  failed  him  as  he  passed 
in  front  of  it,  and  he  was  glad  when  the  de- 
lighted squeals  of  two  girls,  who  were  running 
toward  the  goal,  gave  him  an  excuse  to  delay 
his  entrance.  But  when  the  girls  had  tapped 
the  wheel,  he  bounded  back  and,  spurring  him- 
self on;  stepped  within  the  dark  room,  where, 
in  a  far  corner,  he  caught  a  faint  glint  of  white. 

He  walked  toward  it  timidly.  It  moved,  and 
he  stood  still.  *^Yo  there?*'  he  asked,  at  last, 
his  throat  so  dry  that  he  could  scarcely  find  the 
words.  A  subdued  giggle  answered  him.  He 
recalled  how  kind  and  comrade-like  she  had 
been  to  him  three  months  before  when  they  had 
caught  gophers  together,  and  his  spirits  rose. 
*^Yo  there  f  he  asked  again. 

Suddenly  she  came  from  her  corner  and  at- 
tempted to  pass  him.  Emboldened  by  the  dark- 
ness, he  put  out  his  arms  and  stopped  her,  and 
she  laughed  gaily  up  at  him.  He  laughed  shyly 
back  and  dropped  her  arms.  She  made  no 
effort  to  get  away.  He  stood  still,  awkwardly 
cracking  his  knuckles. 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  131 

*  *  Why  don  ^t  you  fight  1 '  *  she  demanded.  He 
did  not  reply,  but  shuffled  his  feet  and  cracked 
his  knuckles  harder  than  ever.  The  music  of 
a  waltz  floated  in  to  them  over  the  babble  of  the 
kitchen,  and  he  turned  his  head  that  way  as  if 
to  listen.  As  he  did  so  she  crept  past  him,  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  fun  from  the  depths  of  the 
bonnet.  When  he  turned  back  to  look  at  her, 
she  was  gone. 

He  followed  her  out  and  paid  no  attention  to 
the  jeering  inquiries  of  the  other  children. 
And  as  the  colonel's  son  began  to  count  from 
the  wagon-wheel  he  walked  slowly  past  the 
teams  and  smudges,  and  across  a  strip  of  back- 
fire beyond,  to  the  high,  dry  grass,  where  he 
lay  on  his  back  for  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
looking  sadly  up  at  the  stars. 

The  little  girl  sought  a  hiding-place,  too,  be- 
hind a  hay-stack  on  the  other  side  of  the  house. 
The  colonel's  son  had  seen  her  run  that  way, 
and  as  he  sounded  the  final  challenge  his  voice 
had  a  victorious  ring.  He  began  a  second 
mock  hunt.  But  it  was  a  short  one,  for,  fearful 
that  he  might  stumble  upon  one  of  the  Dutch- 
man's younger  brood,  he  first  penetrated  the 
outer  darkness  to  find  a  boy,  and  then  ran 
round  the  house  in  the  direction  taken  by  the 
little  girl. 

He  came  upon  her  unexpectedly  as  he  circled 
a  stack.  She  was  crouching  in  plain  sight 
against  the  hay,  her  face  still  hidden  in  the  re- 


132    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

cesses  of  the  bonnet.  He  rushed  up  to  her  and 
took  her  by  the  shoulders.  *^I  Ve  got  you!" 
he  said,  but  so  low  that  the  neighbor  woman's 
daughter,  who  was  just  a  few  steps  away  be- 
hind a  fanning-mill,  could  scarcely  hear  him. 

**Y-e-e-s,''  stammered  the  little  girl.  She 
drew  back  and  looked  down,  all  her  assurance 
supplanted  by  a  wild  desire  to  get  away. 

*^ Going  to  let  me  have  my  forfeit?"  he  whis- 
pered, shaking  her  a  little. 

The  sunbonnet  drooped  until  its  wide  cape 
stood  up  stiffly  above  her  curls.  **I  hate  that 
old  French  boy, ' '  she  said. 

The  colonel's  son  moved  closer,  and  a  wisp 
of  brittle  grass  in  her  hands  crackled  in  a 
double  grasp.  She  glanced  up  at  him  swiftly, 
as  she  felt  his  touch,  and  this  time  there  was  a 
nearing  of  the  white  frock  to  the  suit  of  blue. 
<^Well,— if— if— you  Ve  got  t',"  she  added. 

But  the  colonel's  son, as  he  bent  over  her  with 
all  the  gallantry  of  his  nine  years,  had  to  learn 
by  experience  what  ^^Frenchy's"  brother  had 
divined  at  a  glance :  the  sunbonnet  was  in  the 
way. 

He  was  equal  to  the  emergency,  however,  and 
hesitated  only  for  a  moment.  Then  he  put  his 
hand  into  his  trousers  pocket  and  took  out  his 
clasp-knife.  He  could  hear  some  one  at  the  goal 
calling  him,  and  there  was  a  rattle  of  dishes  in 
the  house,  where  the  music  had  ceased  for  a 


A  HARVEST  WEDDING  133 

moment,  that  told  him  the  plates  were  being 
passed  for  supper.  He  knew  that  in  a  moment 
either  the  chaplain  or  the  boys  would  be  search- 
ing for  him. 

She  heard  the  calls  and  clatter,  too;  yet  she 
did  not  move  except  to  raise  her  head  until  the 
bonnet  strings  were  in  plain  sight  under  her 
dimpled  chin.  When  he  saw  them,  he  straight- 
ened his  knife  out  with  a  click  and  leaned  once 
more  toward  her. 

The  fiddle  was  playing  the  opening  strains 
of  the  supper  dance  now,  and  a  hundred  voices 
were  singing  with  it ;  so  the  neighbor  woman 's 
daughter,  who  had  been  peering  from  behind 
the  fanning-mill,  hurried  away  to  the  house. 
And  thus  it  came  about  that  no  one  but  a 
vagrant  night-hawk,  perched  high  on  the  top 
of  the  stack,  remained  near  enough  to  hear  the 
sawing  sound  of  a  dull  knife-blade,  making  its 
way  through  cloth. 

In  the  early  morning  hours,  as  the  gray  team 
jogged  homeward  past  the  deserted  school- 
house,  the  big  brothers  and  their  mother  dis- 
cussed the  wedding,  the  dancing,  and  the  sup- 
per. But  the  little  girl,  snugly  wrapped  in  a 
quilt  on  the  hay  behind,  lay  still  and  silent,  and 
only  smiled  when  the  night  breeze  from  the 
west  bore  to  her  ear  the  clear  notes  of  the  de- 
parting bugle  blowing  a  sweet  retreat. 


IX 
THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE 

EVERY  morning  a  cloud  appeared  in  the 
east,  rushed  westward  across  the  north- 
ern sky,  and  vanished  beyond  the  **Jim/' 
Every  afternoon  it  came  up  in  the  west  again, 
swept  back  toward  the  east,  and  went  out  of 
sight  in  the  Big  Sioux.  If  a  herd  chanced  to  be 
grazing  too  near  its  path  as  it  approached, 
they  were  scattered  right  and  left  in  wild  con- 
fusion by  a  shrill  toot!  toot!  that  could  be  heard 
at  the  farm-house.  But  when  the  way  was 
clear  the  cloud  traveled  swiftly  and  silently, 
stringing  itself,  on  sunny  days,  to  a  low  white 
ribbon,  or,  if  the  air  was  damp  and  the  hea- 
vens were  gray,  separating  itself,  from  river 
to  river,  into  many  dark  coughs  of  dense,  high- 
sailing  smoke. 

For  three  months  it  had  been  crossing  the 
plains  as  regularly  as  the  sun  itself.  Before 
that  it  had  loitered,  attended,  so  the  biggest 
brother  said,  by  a  great  company  of  rough  men 
carrying  shovels  and  picks.  It  was  this  com- 
pany,   stray   members    of    which,    worn    and 

134 


THE  PRICE  OP  CONVALESCENCE     135 

grimy,  had  visited  the  farm-house  now  and 
then  and  talked  in  broad  brogue,  that  had  kept 
the  little  girl  and  the  herd  south  of  the  reserva- 
tion road  throughout  the  early  spring;  and  it 
was  not  until  the  men  had  dispersed  and  the 
cloud  had  begun  its  daily  trips  from  horizon 
to  horizon  that  she  was  permitted  to  ride  north- 
ward on  the  pinto  to  see  it  go  by. 

The  youngest  brother  went  with  her, 
mounted  upon  a  skittish,  bald-faced  pony,  and 
they  halted  together,  near  the  low  embankment 
that  divided  the  prairie,  to  wait  for  the  engine. 
But  when  it  hurtled  past,  a  screaming  thing 
of  iron  and  flying  sparks,  both  the  pinto  and 
the  pony,  despite  their  riders'  curbing,  re- 
treated so  precipitately  from  the  track  that 
neither  she  nor  the  youngest  brother  caught 
more  than  a  glimpse  of  the  flying  train,  for 
their  mounts  ceased  running  only  when  the 
barn-yard  was  reached.  Then  the  old  mare 
came  to  a  stop,  blowing  and  trembling  so  wildly 
that  she  could  scarcely  keep  her  legs,  while  the 
bald-face  kicked  and  snorted  about  among  the 
granaries  and  pens  in  a  perfect  paroxysm  of 
terror. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  pinto 
completely  lost  her  fear  of  the  engine,  and 
would  eat  quietly  near  the  embankment  while 
the  little  girl  lay  flat  on  the  ties  to  listen  for  a 
first  faint  rumble,  or  waved  at  the  people  in 


136    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  cars.  The  flock,  too,  became  so  familiar 
with  the  track  that  they  soon  had  a  contempt 
for  it,  a  feeling  that  they  retained  even  after 
a  dozen  of  their  number  had  been  mangled  on 
its  rails;  but  the  cattle  always  kept  it  at  a 
respectful  distance,  and  only  Napoleon  ever 
showed  the  train  enough  hostility  to  shal^e  his 
stubby  horns  angrily  at  it  or  charge  toward  it 
as  it  shot  away  over  the  plains.  The  herd  was 
allowed,  therefore,  to  feed  along  the  railroad 
in  the  custody  of  the  little  girl. 

But  now,  for  nearly  three  weeks,  the  Swede 
boy  had  kept  guard  over  the  grazing  stock,  and 
the  little  girl  had  not  even  seen  the  cloud  above 
the  distant  train.  For  she  was  ill:  so  ill  that 
the  neighbor  woman,  who  shared  the  long  night 
watches  beside  the  canopied  bed  with  the  big- 
gest brother  and  his  mother,  shook  her  head  in 
the  seclusion  of  the  kitchen,  and  told  herself 
that  the  little  girl  would  never  be  well  again. 

The  family  were  beginning  to  have  the  same 
awful  thought,  and  had  sent  a  telegraphic  sum- 
mons from  the  new  station,  ten  miles  away,  to 
a  physician  in  Sioux  Falls.  To  them  a  cloud 
far  heavier  and  darker  than  the  engine 's  breath 
was  hanging,  day  and  night,  over  the  farm- 
house, shutting  out  all  sunshine,  hope,  and  hap- 
piness. 

One  warm  afternoon,  while  the  little  girl  was 
riding  the  cultivator  mare  up  and  down  in  the 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     137 

Indian  com,  she  had  suddenly  been  seized  with 
a  chill.  That  night  a  fever  followed,  and  for  a 
week  she  grew  steadily  worse.  Her "  mother 
gave  her  every  home  remedy  known  to  be  good 
for  malaria,  and  at  the  end  of  the  second  week 
moved  her  to  the  canopied  bed,  where  an  ever 
waving  fan  cooled  her  hot  cheeks.  It  was  here, 
almost  at  the  end  of  the  third  week  of  her  ill- 
ness, that  the  Sioux  Falls  doctor  found  her. 

She  was  tossing  from  side  to  side,  murmur- 
ing in  a  delirium  that  had  possessed  her  for 
days.  Her  face  showed  a  scarlet  flush  against 
the  white  pillow-slip.  The  biggest  brother,  who 
scarcely  left  her  bedside  to  rest  or  eat,  was 
placing  cold  cloths  upon  her  forehead  and  wet- 
ting her  lips.  White  through  his  tan,  he  hung 
over  her  in  an  agony  of  fear,  only  lifting  his 
eyes,  now  and  then,  to  turn  them  sorrowfully 
upon  his  mother,  seated  opposite. 

The  little  girl  did  not  know  of  the  doctor  *s 
arrival.  As  he  hurried  into  the  sitting-room, 
she  was  thinking  of  the  floating  cloud.  Now 
it  was  pursuing  her  as  she  fled  from  it  on  a  fleet 
pony ;  now  it  was  stooping  groundward,  a  huge, 
airy  monster,  to  offer  her  a  cake  of  ice;  again 
it  was  sweeping  over  her,  quenching  the  deadly 
fire  that  consumed  her,  and  leaving  her  on  the 
damp,  green  bank  above  the  mooring-place  of 
the  bull-boat.  She  lay  very  still  with  her  cool 
thoughts,  her  eyes,  wide  and  lustrous,  fixed 


138    BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

upon  the  blue  canopy  overhead.  But  when, 
a  moment  later,  the  fever  burned  more  hotly 
again,  and  the  cloud  changed  to  a  blinding, 
blistering  steam  that  enveloped  her,  she  sat 
up  and  fought  with  her  hands,  and  cried  aloud 
for  the  biggest  brother. 

The  doctor  caught  her  wrists  and  gently  put 
her  back.  One  glance  at  her  parched  lips  and 
brown  tongue  had  told  him  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, and  as  he  opened  a  valise  and  took  out  some 
medicines  he  answered  the  inquiring  looks  of 
the  family.  ^^ Typhoid,''  he  said.  **She  's  a 
very  sick  child.  But  I  think  we  may  be  able  to 
pull  her  through.'' 

With  her  mother  and  the  big  brothers  look- 
ing on  mournfully,  the  first  step  was  taken  to- 
ward aiding  her.  One  by  one  her  curls,  so  long 
her  mother's  pride  and  care,  were  snipped  off 
close  to  her  head ;  and  when  at  last  they  lay  on 
the  bed  in  a  newspaper,  a  little  heap  of  soft, 
yellow  tangles,  there  was  sobbing  all  about  in 
the  sitting-room,  and  even  the  doctor,  accus- 
tomed to  sad  sights,  could  not  keep  the  tears 
from  chasing  down  his  cheeks  and  into  his 
brown  beard. 

She  looked  pitifully  thin  and  altered,  shorn 
of  her  bright  halo ;  yet  at  once  she  grew  quieter, 
and  when  she  was  gently  lowered  into  the  brim- 
ming wash-tub  and  then  laid  between  sheets 
wrung  from  cold  water,  she  closed  her  eyes 
gratefully  and  ceased  her  outcries. 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     139 

The  doctor,  collarless  and  with  his  shirt- 
sleeves rolled  up,  worked  over  her  all  day.  The 
little  girl 's  mother  and  the  neighbor  woman  as- 
sisted him,  and  the  big  brothers  sat  on  the 
bench  in  front  of  the  house,  so  as  to  be  within 
easy  call.  But  when  twilight  came,  and  every- 
thing possible  had  been  done  for  his  patient 's 
comfort,  the  doctor,  who  was  tired  with  his 
long  ride  and  the  day's  strain,  went  into  the 
little  girl 's  room  and  took  a  much-needed  sleep. 

*^Keep  up  your  courage,''  he  said  cheerily 
to  the  biggest  brother,  as  he  left  him  at  his  post 
by  the  little  girl;  **her  years  of  outdoor  life 
will  help  her  rally.  I  have  hope ;  but  wake  me 
at  once  if  you  note  any  decided  change." 

The  evening  hours  passed  slowly.  In  the 
sick-room  the  little  girl's  mother  was  resting 
on  the  lounge,  which  had  been  pulled  close  to 
the  canopied  bed.  The  neighbor  woman  dozed 
in  the  kitchen,  beside  the  table  where  was 
spread  the  untasted  supper.  The  eldest  and 
the  youngest  brothers  were  stretched,  still 
dressed,  on  their  beds  in  the  attic.  The  house 
was  noiseless,  and  dark  everywhere  except  in 
the  sitting-room.  There,  on  the  high  clock- 
shelf,  the  same  tall  lamp  that,  nearly  seven  and 
a  half  years  before,  had  burned  like  a  beacon 
and  lighted  the  coming  of  the  stork,  now,  turned 
low,  shone  upon  the  faithful  biggest  brother 
and  the  suffering  little  girl. 

Shortly   after   ten   o'clock   an   interruption 


140    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

came  to  the  silence.  A  gentle  knocking  was 
heard  at  the  hall  door,  and,  on  going  out,  the 
neighbor  woman  found  a  cattleman  who  had 
recently  moved  into  the  Territory  from  north- 
ern Texas  standing  on  the  stone  step.  Having 
heard  that  morning  from  the  Swede  boy  that 
the  little  girl  was  dangerously  ill,  he  had  rid- 
den down  to  proffer  the  services  of  himself 
and  his  swift  horse  Sultan.  And  when  the 
neighbor  woman  told  him  that  there  was  small 
hope  of  the  little  girPs  recovery,  he  stabled 
his  animal,  and  prepared  to  remain  all  night. 

As  he  came  out  of  the  bam,  after  having  tied 
Sultau  in  a  vacant  stall,  he  found  that,  unknown 
to  the  family,  another  anxious  watcher  was  lin- 
gering about.  A  tow  head  was  suddenly  thrust 
from  behind  the  partly  open  door,  and  a  hand 
halted  him  by  catching  appealingly  at  his 
sleeve.  **She  bane  hater?*'  asked  a  low,  timid 
voice. 

The  cattleman  turned,  half  startled,  and 
shook  his  head  as  he  replied,  *^I  reckon  she  's 
a  lot  worse,''  he  said.  He  walked  on,  but 
paused  again  at  the  smoke-house.  The  tow- 
head  was  just  behind,  and  the  cattleman  could 
hear  the  sound  of  chattering  teeth;  so  he 
whipped  off  his  overcoat  and  tossed  it  back. 
AVhen  he  entered  the  hall  the  chattering  had 
stopped,  and  the  coat  had  disappeared  into  the 
shadow  of  a  granary. 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     141 

After  the  cattleman  settled  himself  upon  the 
bench  in  the  kitchen,  the  house  fell  into  quiet 
once  more;  and  it  was  not  until  midnight  that 
the  hush  was  broken.  Then  the  biggest  brother, 
having  moved  the  curtains  of  the  canopied  bed 
and  turned  up  the  lamp,  discovered  what  he 
felt  to  be  the  dreaded  change  in  the  little  girl, 
and  uttered  a  frightened  exclamation. 

Her  face,  so  long  flushed  with  fever,  was 
blanched  and  wan.  Her  eyes  were  entirely 
closed,  and  their  long  lashes  lay  on  her  cheeks. 
Her  arms  were  outspread  and  relaxed,  her 
palms  open.  Her  breathing  was  so  faint  that 
he  had  to  bend  his  ear  to  her  lips  to  hear  it. 
He  was  certain  that  the  end  was  near,  and  has- 
tened to  call  his  mother  and  summon  his  bro- 
thers and  the  doctor.  They  were  joined  in  the 
sitting-room  by  the  neighbor  woman  and  the 
cattleman. 

It  was  apparent  to  all  that  a  change  for  the 
worse  had  taken  place  in  the  little  girl.  Yet 
the  doctor,  who  hurried  to  her  side,  watch  in 
hand,  betrayed  neither  satisfaction  nor  alarm 
as  he  bent  above  her ;  and  the  group  about  him 
could  only  wait  in  suspense. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  sigh  from  the  pillow, 
and  the  little  girl  opened  her  eyes.  For  a  week 
she  had  recognized  no  one.  Now  she  looked 
about  at  the  faces  turned  upon  her,  and  a 
faint  smile  curved  her  lips.    It  brought  a  cry 


142    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

of  joy  from  her  mother.  **0h,  pet  lamb,"  she 
said,  *Hhe  doctor's  here,  and  he  's  going  to 
make  my  baby  well." 

A  shade  passed  over  the  little  girPs  face, 
and  she  glanced  from  her  mother  to  the  doctor. 
^^I  'm  really  not  a  baby,"  she  said  in  a  weak 
voice,  but  with  something  of  the  old  spirit ;  *  *  my 
mother  jus*  says  that.    I  '11  be  seven  in  June." 

The  doctor  nodded,  and  smiled  back  at  her. 
His  fingers  were  still  at  her  wrist,  and  his  face 
wore  a  worried  expression.  The  cattleman 
leaned  and  whispered  a  question  in  his  ear,  and 
he  replied  out  loud.  **I  can't  tell,"  he  said. 
*  *  She  may  and  she  may  not. ' ' 

The  little  girl's  eyes  closed.  The  doctor 
poured  out  a  stimulant,  and  put  the  glass  to 
her  mouth.  When  he  lifted  her  head,  she  drank 
it,  and  her  breath  came  in  longer  and  heavier 
respirations.    No  one  spoke. 

All  at  once  a  sound  of  scratching  at  the  front 
door,  followed  by  whining,  startled  her  so  that 
she  looked  up  once  more,  and  her  lips  moved. 
*^That  's  Luffree,"  she  said.  Her  mother  be- 
gan to  smooth  her  head  tenderly,  and  it  brought 
a  new  thought  to  the  little  girl.  '^  'Monia  '11 
give  me  curly  hair, ' '  she  added,  and  closed  her 
eyes  again. 

The  family  watched  her  hopelessly,  for  to 
them  the  doctor's  silence  had  only  one  mean- 
ing; but  the  cattleman,  standing  behind  the 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE      143 

eldest  brother,  could  not  bear  the  wordless  wait- 
ing. He  felt  that  if  she  would  rouse  and  con- 
tinue to  speak,  death  would  be  delayed.  So  he 
called  to  her  pleadingly. 

^^ Little  gal !^'  he  said  huskily;  ^^ little  gal!'' 
She  stirred  wearily,  and  her  lids  fluttered  as  if 
she  were  striving  to  lift  them.  ^^ Little  gal," 
he  went  on ;  *^I  want  ye  t'  fight  this  out.  Don't 
ye  let  no  ol'  typhoid  git  you.  An'  when  ye  git 
well,  ye  jus'  come  to  see  me,  an'  ye  kin  hev 
anything  on  th '  whole  ranch. ' '  She  turned  her 
face  toward  him.  ''Anything  on  th'  whole 
ranch,"  he  repeated,  his  voice  breaking.  She 
moved  one  hand  till  it  found  one  of  her  mo- 
ther's, then  she  lay  very  still. 

The  biggest  brother  dropped  to  his  knees  be- 
side the  bed  and  crouched  there.  The  youngest 
brother  began  to  weep,  leaning  against  the  eld- 
est. The  neighbor  woman  crept  away  toward 
the  kitchen,  her  face  buried  in  her  apron.  The 
cattleman  turned  his  back.  The  mother  clung 
prayerfully  to  the  transparent  hand.  And  so 
passed  a  long  and  despairing  five  minutes. 

But  at  its  end  the  doctor  uttered  an  ejacula- 
tion of  surprise  and  pleasure,  and  sprang  to  his 
feet.  At  the  same  time  he  raised  a  warning  fin- 
ger and  motioned  all  toward  the  kitchen. 
They  obeyed  him  and  retreated,  remaining  to- 
gether in  troubled  impatience  until  he  came 
among  them. 


144    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

*^I  can't  be  absolutely  certain, '^  he  said,  his 
face  alight  with  happiness,  *^but  I  believe  you 
can  all  go  to  bed  with  safety.  Things  seem  to 
have  turned  our  way:  her  skin  is  soft  and 
moist,  her  temperature  is  down,  and,  better 
than  anything  else,  she  's  asleep/' 

As  a  full  realization  of  the  good  news  broke 
upon  them,  all  save  the  biggest  brother  sat 
down  to  talk  it  gratefully  over.  But  he  dashed 
out  of  doors  to  voice  his  joy,  and,  as  he  bounded 
up  and  down  the  yard,  half  laughing  and  half 
crying,  he  caught  up  a  muffled  figure  that  was 
lurking  in  the  rear  of  the  kitchen  ancj  swung 
it  high  into  the  air. 

During  the  weeks  that  followed,  while  the 
little  girl  was  slowly  fighting  her  way  back  to 
a  sure  hold  on  life,  there  often  came  into  her 
mind,  vaguely  at  first  and  then  more  clearly, 
the  promise  that  the  cattleman  had  made  her 
the  night  they  thought  she  was  dying.  *  *  Ye  kin 
hev  anything  on  th '  whole  ranch, ' '  had  been  his 
exact  words ;  and  in  the  intervals  when,  having 
gratified  an  appetite  that  was  alarming  in  its 
heartiness,  she  sat  in  the  sun  with  the  dogs 
about  her,  or  drove  with  her  mother  in  the  new 
buckboard,  she  pondered  them  exultantly  and 
with  a  confidence  that  was  absolute. 

However,  it  was  not  until  she  was  so  well 
that  she  was  again  saying  pert  things  to  the 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     145 

eldest  brother,  and  so  strong  that  she  was  once 
more  tending  the  herd,  that  she  determined  to 
pay  the  cattleman  a  visit  and  remind  him  of 
his  agreement.  Aware  that  the  family  would 
oppose  her  acceptance  of  a  gift  from  a  neigh- 
bor, she  made  her  preparations  for  the  trip  in 
secret,  and  quietly  left  the  farm-house  one  Sun- 
day afternoon,  taking  with  her  a  bridle  and  a 
gunny  feed-bag  half  filled  with  oats. 

She  had  chosen  a  Sunday  for  several  rea- 
sons: she  was  always  relieved  on  that  day  of 
the  task  of  herding,  the  youngest  brother  taking 
her  place;  her  mother  invariably  spent  it  in 
writing  long  letters  that  traveled  across  land 
and  sea  to  far-away  England;  and  the  eldest 
and  biggest  brothers  puttered  it  away  in  the 
blacksmith-shop,  where  there  were  farm  imple- 
ments to  mend,  hoes  to  sharpen,  and  picket- 
ropes  and  tugs  to  splice.  Usually  it  was  the 
lonesomest  day  of  the  week  to  the  little  girl; 
but  this  Sunday  proved  to  be  an  exception. 

She  was  careful  not  to  disturb  the  household 
as  she  set  off,  and  when  she  passed  the  cattle, 
which  were  feeding  in  the  river  meadows,  she 
crept  round  them  as  slyly  as  an  Indian,  so  that 
the  youngest  brother,  who  was  fashioning  wil- 
low whistles,  should  not  see  her.  Once  having 
gained  the  straight  road  that  led  across  the  rail- 
road track  toward  the  cattleman's,  she  took  off 
her  hat  and  made  faster  progress. 

10 


146    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

But  the  way  was  long,  and,  still  weak  from 
her  recent  sickness,  she  was  easily  tired.  When 
only  two  thirds  of  the  distance  was  traveled 
it  was  so  late  that  the  night-blooming  flowers 
were  unfolding  their  chalices,  as  white  and 
glimmering  as  the  little  girl's  Sunday  apron, 
to  let  the  crape-winged  moths  drink  their  sweet- 
ness. Migrant  birds  were  already  speeding 
above  her,  to  fly  till  dawn,  and  they  veered  from 
their  course  as  they  saw  her  hurrying  along 
beneath  them.  Wild  creatures  that  had  been 
sleeping  during  the  day  came  from  their  holes 
to  seek  food  and  timidly  watched  her  hasten 
past.  And  all  along,  out  of  the  tall,  brittle 
grass,  the  busy  lightning-bugs  sprang  up  with 
their  lanterns  to  help  the  dim  stars  light  the 
way. 

It  was  dusk  on  the  plains  before  she  looked 
in,  through  a  tangle  of  com  and  young  cotton- 
woods,  upon  the  low  shanty,  in  front  of  which 
sat  the  cattleman  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  thought- 
fully chewing  a  quid.  The  growl  of  a  dog  at 
his  feet  discovered  her  to  him  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, and,  as  he  squinted  in  the  half-light  at 
her  thin  little  form  and  cropped  head,  she 
seemed  like  some  strange  prairie  fay  coming, 
light-footed,  out  of  the  gloom  to  meet  him. 

^^Hi  thar!"  he  called,  rising  up  as  the  little 
girl  threaded  the  corn  and  cottonwoods.  She 
was  breathless  with  walking,  and  did  not  an- 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     147 

swer  as  she  crossed  the  yard,  shielding  herself 
with  the  bridle  and  the  feed-bag  from  the  dog, 
bounding  boisterously  against  her.  *^Wal, 
what  on  airth ! ' '  exclaimed  the  cattleman  when 
she  halted  before  him. 

As  she  glanced  up,  he  took  on  the  forbidding 
height  and  glowering  aspect  of  her  first  school- 
teacher. But  she  summoned  heart.  *^How 
d'  ye  doT'  she  said,  nodding  at  him  cor- 
dially. 

*  ^  What  're  ye  doin '  up  here  T '  he  demanded. 
*^Ye  lost?    Come  in!  come  in!'' 

*  ^  Oh,  no, ' '  answered  the  little  girl,  following 
him  into  the  shanty. 

He  lighted  a  lantern,  and,  turning  it  upon 
her,  eyed  her  anxiously.  She  looked  even  thin- 
ner, paler,  and  more  eerie  than  she  had  in  the 
yard.  **Sit  down,"  he  said,  motioning  her  to 
a  bench.  But  he  remained  standing,  his  hands 
shoved  far  into  the  top  of  his  wide,  yellow, 
goatskin  ** chaps,"  his  quid  rolling  from  side 
to  side.  **Wy,  I  thought  you  's  a  spook,"  he 
laughed,  **er  a  will-o'-th '-wisp— one.  Want  a 
drink  er  somethin'  to  eat?  Got  lots  o'  nice 
coffee.    Guess  y'  're  petered." 

**No,  I  'm  not,"  she  declared.  And  as  he 
turned  from  the  stove,  where  he  had  put  the 
coffee  on  to  boil,  she  got  up  and  stepped  toward 
him.  **I— I— called  to  get  somefing,"  she  fal- 
tered, resuming,  in  her  trepidation,  a  babyish 


148    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

pronunciation  long  since  discarded  for  one 
more  dignified. 

^^Ye  didr'  queried  the  cattleman. 

**Yes,''  she  continued.  **You  'member  the 
night  I  'most  diedf  He  acquiesced  silently. 
*^Well,  you  told  me  then  that  if  I  'd  get  well 
you  'd  give  me  anyfing  on  your  ranch.'' 

The  cattleman  started  as  if  he  had  been 
stung,  and,  wheeling  about,  took  out  his  quid 
and  threw  it  on  the  flames,  so  that  he  might  be 
better  able  to  cope  with  the  matter  before  him. 

**And  so,"  the  little  girl  went  on,  '*I  fought 
I  'd  come  to-day. ' ' 

The  cattleman  rubbed  his  chin.  '*I  see;  I 
see, "he  said. 

**I  could  n't  get  here  sooner,"  she  explained, 
**  'cause  I  did  n't  ride." 

*  *  Oh,  ye  did  n  't  r '  he  said.  Then,  noting  the 
bridle  and  bag,  *^What  ye  got  them  fer?"  he 
asked. 

^^I  did  n't  want  to  use  yours,"  she  replied. 

* '  Mine  1 ' '    The  cattleman  was  puzzled. 

^*Yes:  I  brought  this,"  she  went  on,  holding 
up  the  bag,  *  ^  to  catch  him  wiv ;  and  this, ' '  hold- 
ing up  the  bridle,  ^  ^  to  take  him  home  wiv. ' ' 

^^Him?"  questioned  the  cattleman,  more 
puzzled  than  ever. 

The  little  girl  saw  that  she  would  have  to 
make  herself  more  clear.  **Why,  yes,"  she 
said.    **You  promised  me  anyfing  I  wanted  if 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     149 

I  *d  get  well ;  now  I  'm  well,  so  I  Ve  come  to— 
to— get  Sultan.'' 

The  cattleman  sat  down,  amazement  and 
consternation  succeeding  each  other  on  his  face. 
Until  now  he  had  forgotten  the  compact  made 
with  her,  and  which  he  was  in  honor  bound  to 
keep.  Recalling  it,  he  realized  that  it  meant 
the  loss  of  his  best  horse. 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  thinking  hard  for 
a  means  of  escape  from  his  dilemma.  When 
he  spoke  at  last  he  was  smiling  good-naturedly. 
**Ye  're  right,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands 
briskly  over  the  long  hair  of  the  breeches ;  *  ^  I 
did  say  that  very  thing.  An'  I  'm  a  man  o'  my 
word.  But  it  seems  to  me,"  and  he  leaned 
forward  confidently,  ^Hhet  ye  ain't  made  ex- 
ac'ly  the  best  pick  thet  ye  could."  The  little 
girl  sat  up  with  a  new  interest.  *^Now  I  've 
got  sunthin'  here,"  continued  the  cattleman, 
'Hhet  '11  jes  make  yer  eyes  pop."  He  got  up, 
went  to  a  box  that,  nailed  against  the  wall  above 
the  stove,  served  him  for  a  cupboard,  and  took 
out  a  long,  slender  package.  *  *  Ye  've  got  more 
horses  than  ye  can  shake  a  stick  at, ' '  he  began 
again;  ** ponies  an'  plow  teams  an'  buggy  nags, 
but  ye  ain't  got  nuthin'  like  what  I  'm  'bout 
to  show  ye. ' ' 

Slowly  and  impressively  he  began  to  undo 
the  package,  keeping  one  eye  covertly  on  the 
little  girl  all  the  while.    She  was  beside  him, 


150    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

rigid  with  expectancy.  When  many  thick- 
nesses of  thin  brown  paper  had  been  unrolled, 
he  stepped  back,  unwrapped  a  last  cover,  and, 
with  a  proud  wave  of  his  hand,  revealed  to  her 
delighted  gaze  a  big,  thick,  red-and- white  candy 
cane. 

**Now,  what  do  ye  think  o'  that?"  he  de- 
manded. 

An  exclamation  of  wonder  came  from  her 
parted  lips.  She  moved  nearer  without  an- 
swering. 

**As  I  said,"  he  went  on,'*y'  Ve  got  all  kinds 
of  horses;  but  when  in  yer  life  hev  ye  hed 
anything  like  this?"  He  laid  it  gently  on  the 
table,  and  folded  his  arms  solemnly.  **Thet 
came  all  the  way  from  Yankton,"  he  said,  as 
if  recounting  the  history  of  some  famous  work 
of  art.  *^I  bought  it  down  thar  of  a  feller,  an' 
paid  some  little  money  fer  it."  He  did  not 
add  that  she  was  in  his  thoughts  when  he 
bought  it.  *^Now  I  'm  going  out  to  hitch  up 
an '  take  ye  home, ' '  he  continued.  *  ^  While  I  *m 
gone,  ye  make  up  yer  mind  which  ye  want—" 
He  started  for  the  door,  but  paused  half-way. 
*  *  —which  ye  want, ' '  he  repeated,  lowering  his 
voice,  ** Sultan— er  thet  beautiful  cane?" 

When  he  was  gone  the  little  girl  stole  closer 
to  the  table  and  gazed  rapturously  down. 
Never  in  her  life,  as  the  cattleman  truly  said, 
had  she  seen  anything  like  it.    No  horse,  on  a 


THE  PRICE  OF  CONVALESCENCE     151 

prairie  overrunning  with  horses,  could  com- 
pare with  it.  She  put  out  her  hand  and  touched 
its  crooked  head,  almost  reverently,  with  one 
small  finger. 

The  cattleman  harnessed  a  span  of  fat  mules 
at  the  barn,  and  led  them  into  their  places  on 
each  side  of  a  wagon  tongue.  All  the  while  he 
talked  out  loud  to  himself,  with  occasional  guf- 
faws of  hearty  laughter  and  sharp  commands 
to  the  team.  Despite  his  merriment,  however, 
he  peered  back  at  the  shanty  uneasily  from 
time  to  time ;  so  that  it  was  a  full  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  the  mules  were  hitched  to  the 
whiffle  trees  and  ready  for  their  journey.  Then 
he  climbed  to  the  seat  and  circled  toward  the 
door. 

She  was  not  in  sight  when  he  brought  up  with 
a  loud  whoa,  and  getting  down,  the  lines  in  one 
hand  and  a  black-snake  in  the  other,  he  ad- 
vanced to  the  sill  and  looked  in.  **Any  pas- 
sengers goin'  south  r'  he  cried  cheerily,  crack- 
ing the  whip. 

*  *  Me, ' '  answered  a  voice  from  behind  the  ta- 
ble, and  the  little  girl,  fagged  but  blissful,  came 
forward  smilingly,  a  long,  brown-paper  pack-: 
age  clasped  tightly  to  her  breast. 


"BADGY" 

IT  was  the  little  girl  who  discovered  that 
the  badgers  were  encroaching  upon  the 
big  wheat-field  that  stretched  westward,  across 
the  prairie,  from  the  farm-house  to  the  sandy- 
bank  of  the  Vermillion.  In  bringing  the  cattle 
home  from  the  meadows  one  night,  along  the 
cow-path  that  bordered  the  northern  end  of 
the  grain,  she  allowed  several  to  stray  aside 
into  the  field,  which  was  now  faintly  green 
with  its  new  sprouting.  And  as  she  headed 
them  out,  riding  her  pony  at  full  gallop,  she 
saw  a  fine  shorthorn  suddenly  pitch  forward 
with  a  bellow  and  fall.  She  checked  her  horse 
and  waited  for  the  animal  to  rise  again.  But 
it  could  not— it  had  snapped  a  fore  ankle  in  a 
freshly  dug  badger  hole. 

The  shorthorn  was  a  favorite  and,  as  be- 
fitted her  good  blood,  carried  across  her  dew- 
lap the  string  of  silver  sleigh-bells  that  in 
wintertime  tinkled  before  the  pung.  So  the 
news  of  her  injury  was  received  with  sorrow  at 
the'  farm-house ;  and  when,  later  in  the  evening, 

152 


"BADGY''  153 

the  little  girl's  big  brothers  went  down  to  the 
field  to  put  the  heifer  out  of  her  misery,  they 
vowed  that  the  last  feeble  jingle  of  her  bells 
should  be  the  death-knell  of  the  badgers. 

They  found  that  the  burrowing  host,  driven 
out  of  their  former  homes  either  by  an  un- 
looked-for seepage  or  the  advent  of  a  stronger 
animal,  had  been  attracted  to  the  field  because 
the  harrow  had  so  recently  broken  and  softened 
the  fallow,  and  had  dug  so  rapidly  since  the 
planting  of  a  few  weeks  before,  that  the  north 
end,  perforated  every  three  or  four  feet,  would 
be  utterly  useless,  that  year  at  least,  for  either 
the  harvester  or  the  plow.  Each  family  had  dug 
two  tunnels  that  slanted  toward  each  other  and 
met  at  the  nest.  And  since  the  tunnels  of  one 
family  often  crossed  those  of  another,  the 
ground  was  treacherously  unstable.  The  out- 
lying, unplowed  land  also  bore,  mile  upon  mile, 
marks  of  the  ravages  of  an  army  of  badgers; 
but  the  north  end  of  the  wheat-field  was  the  con- 
centration camp. 

The  badgers  had  thrived  in  their  new  home, 
for  on  one  side  was  a  grassy  rise  where  the  eggs 
and  young  of  the  plover  and  prairie-chicken 
could  be  found;  and,  on  the  other,  a  gully  led 
down  to  the  sloughs  that  yielded  succulent 
roots  and  crawling  things.  The  little  girl 's  big 
brothers  saw  that  the  animals  were  so  abun- 
dant that  shot,  traps,  or  poison  would  not  avail 


154    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

—only  a  thorough  drowning-out  would  rid  the 
grain-land  of  the  pest. 

The  attack  was  planned  for  the  following 
day.  It  wpuld  be  timely,  since  four  feet  be- 
neath the  surface  were  the  newly  born,  half- 
blind  litters  that  could  be  wiped  out  by  a  flood. 
Some  of  the  old  badgers  would,  undoubtedly, 
escape  the  deluge  and  get  past  the  dogs,  but 
they  would  be  driven  away  to  hunt  other 
ground  for  their  tunneling. 

The  next  afternoon,  when  the  farm  wagon, 
creaking  under  its  load  of  water-barrels  and 
attended  by  the  dogs,  was  driven  down  to  the 
badger  holes  in  the  field,  the  little  girl  went 
along.  Drownings-out  were  exciting  affairs, 
for  the  badgers  always  gave  the  pack  a  fine  tus- 
sle before  they  were  despatched;  and  she  was 
allowed  to  attend  them  if  she  would  promise  to 
remain  on  the  high  seat  of  the  wagon,  out  of 
harm's  way. 

When  the  team  had  been  brought  to  a  stand- 
still on  the  cow-path,  she  watched  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  drowning  from  her  perch. 

Two  holes  were  found  that  slanted  toward 
each  other.  One  big  brother,  armed  with  two 
or  three  buckets  of  water,  stationed  himself  at 
the  hole  nearer  the  wagon;  and  another,  simi- 
larly armed,  guarded  the  farther  hole.  The 
pack  divided  itself,  half  remaining  at  each 
outlet,  and  barked  itself  hoarse  with  antici- 
pation. 


"BADGY"  155 

At  last  all  was  in  readiness,  and,  at  a  word, 
the  water  was  poured— bucketful  after  bucket- 
ful—down the  tunnels.  Then  a  big  brother 
sprang  to  the  horses'  heads  to  prevent  their 
running  when  the  fight  began,  another  jumped 
into  the  wagon  to  refill  the  pails  and  hand  them 
down,  and  the  dogs,  leaping  excitedly,  closed 
about  the  holes.  The  little  girl  watched  breath- 
lessly and  clung  fast  to  the  seat. 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  sign  of  anything. 
Suddenly  from  the  nearer  hole  bounded  a 
female,  the  refuse  of  her  nest  clinging  to  her 
dripping  hair.  Whirling  and  biting  furiously 
on  all  sides,  she  growled  in  fear  and  rage  as  she 
defied  the  pack.  There  was  a  quick,  fierce  fight 
that  was  carried  a  rod  before  it  ended;  then, 
amid  a  din  of  yelping,  the  badger  met  a  speedy 
death. 

The  little  girl  climbed  down  from  the  wagon, 
and  ran  to  the  hole  out  of  which  the  badger  had 
come.  From  her  seat  she  had  spied  a  small, 
gray  bit  of  fur  in  the  debris  lying  about  it,  and 
guessed  what  it  was.  She  reached  the  hole  none 
too  soon;  for  the  dogs,  having  been  drawn  off 
their  prey,  were  coming  back,  whining  and 
limping  and  licking  their  chops.  She  caught 
up  the  little,  half-drowned  thing  and  climbed 
hastily  into  the  wagon  again,  as  the  pack,  scent- 
ing it,  pursued  her  and  leaped  against  the 
wheels. 


156    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

The  baby  badger  came  very  near  to  going 
the  way  of  superfluous  kittens  when  the  little 
girl's  big  brothers  saw  what  she  had,  and  was 
saved  only  through  her  pleading.  She  begged 
to  keep  and  tame  him,  and  promised  to  thwart 
any  desire  of  his  to  burrow  indiscriminately 
about  the  house  and  garden.  So  she  was  finally 
permitted  to  take  him  home,  snugly  wound  up 
in  her  apron,  and  revive  him  with  warm  milk. 

The  first  time  that  he  saw  the  world  he  viewed 
it  from  a  subterranean  standpoint,  his  birth- 
place being  a  round,  soft,  warm  pocket  far  be- 
low the  level  of  the  growing  wheat.  True,  his 
horizon  was  somewhat  limited,  since  the  pocket 
was  of  small  dimensions.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
wide  to  him ;  and  he  spent  several  days  in  sur- 
veying the  top  and  sides  of  his  home  with  his 
weak,  little,  blinking  eyes  before  he  ventured 
to  crawl  about.  Then  it  was  necessary  for  his 
mother  to  lift  him  from  his  cozy  bed  in  the 
midst  of  his  brothers  and  sisters  and  give  him 
a  sharp  pinch  on  the  neck  with  her  teeth  to 
make  him  start. 

The  pocket  was  reached  by  a  tunnel  that  had 
been  well  begun  and  then  abandoned  by  an  in- 
dustrious but  timid  pocket-gopher.  This  ti- 
midity and  industry  had  been  taken  advantage 
of  when  the  badgers  began  their  colonization  of 
the  wheat-field,  and  the  pocket  and  a  second 


"BADGY'^  157 

tunnel  completed;  so  that  the  result  was  a 
comfortable  residence  and,  finally,  an  ideal 
nursery.  But  in  all  probability  he  and  his 
brothers  and  sisters  did  not  realize  how  cozily 
Providence  had  placed  them  until  that  dreadful 
day. 

It  was  when  they  were  having  their  regular 
romp  with  their  mother  that  the  first  indica- 
tion of  trouble  came.  His  father,  who  had  been 
sitting  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  gossiping 
with  a  neighboring  fox,  rushed  down  wildly 
to  the  little  family,  and  fairly  fell  over  them  in 
an  effort  to  escape  by  the  second  tunnel  beyond. 
The  fierce  barking  of  the  dogs  was  heard. 
Then  the  great  flood  of  water  swept  down  upon 
them  from  both  tunnels,  lifting  them  all  in  a 
struggling,  suffocating  mass  to  the  top  of  the 
pocket. 

His  mother,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
overcoming  her  parental  love,  started  madly 
for  a  tunnel,  and,  in  swimming  against  the 
floating  ruins  of  her  nest,  pushed  him  before 
her  up  the  opening  and  into  the  full  light  of 
day.  There,  blinded  by  the  sunlight  and  ex- 
hausted, he  lost  consciousness,  and  lay  unno- 
ticed, partly  hidden  beneath  the  feathers  and 
grass  that  had  made  his  bed,  until  the  little  girl 
saw  him. 

He  rewarded  her  for  his  first  meal  by  turning 


158    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

on  his  back  with  his  legs  in  the  air  and  grunting 
contentedly.  He  was  of  a  grizzled  gray  color, 
soft,  fat,  clumsy,  short  of  limb  and  thick  of 
tail,  and  displayed,  in  spite  of  his  few  weeks, 
a  remarkably  fine  set  of  claws  on  his  fore  feet. 
These  he  alternately  thrust  out  and  drew  in,  as 
she  petted  him,  and  curled  up  his  long,  black- 
and-white  nose.  The  little  girl  thought  him  the 
nicest  pet  she  had  ever  had,  and  soon  fell  a 
willing  slave  to  his  wheedling  grunts. 

He  was  christened  **Badgy,''  and  spent  the 
first  month  of  his  new  life  in  a  warmly  padded 
soap-box  in  the  farm-house  kitchen.  But  by 
the  end  of  that  time  he  had  outgrown  the  box, 
and,  the  weather  being  warmer,  was  given  the 
empty  potato-bin  in  the  cellar.  "When  he  was 
big  enough  to  run  about,  he  spent  his  days  out 
of  doors.  Early  in  the  morning  he  was  called 
from  the  bin  by  the  little  girl,  who  opened  the 
cellar  doors  and  watched  him  come  awkwardly 
up  the  steps,  ambitiously  advancing  two  at  a 
time  and  generally  falling  back  one.  After  his 
breakfast  of  meat  and  bread  and  milk  he  en- 
joyed a  frolic,  which  consisted  of  a  long  run  in 
a  circle  about  the  little  girl,  while  he  grunted 
for  joy  and  lack  of  breath.  When  he  was  com- 
pletely worn  out  with  play,  he  rolled  over  on 
his  back  and  had  a  sleep  in  the  sun. 

Badgy  learned  to  love  the  little  girl;  and  it 
was  found,  after  he  had  lived  in  the  potato-bin 


"BADGY^  159 

for  a  while,  that  she  was  the  only  person  he 
would  follow  or  meet  amicably ;  all  others  were 
saluted  with  a  snarl  and  a  lifting  of  the  griz- 
zled hair.  So  the  household  came  to  look  upon 
him  in  the  light  of  a  worthy  supplanter  of  the 
Indian  dogs  as  a  protector  for  her.  He  accom- 
panied her  everywhere  over  the  prairie,  keep- 
ing close  to  her  bare  feet  and  grunting  good- 
naturedly  at  every  swaying  step.  If  they  met 
a  stranger,  he  sprang  before  her,  his  hair  on 
end,  his  teeth  showing,  his  claws  working  back 
and  forth  angrily.  A^Hien  a  Sioux  came  near, 
he  went  into  a  perfect  fit  of  rage;  and  not  an 
Indian  ever  dared  lay  hands  upon  him. 

It  was  this  hatred  for  redskins  that  one 
night  saved  the  herd  from  a  stampede.  Badgy 
had  been  playing  about  the  sitting-room  with 
the  little  girl,  and  trying  his  sharp  claws  on 
the  new  rag  carpet,  when  he  suddenly  began 
to  rush  madly  here  and  there,  snapping  his 
teeth  furiousl5^  A  big  brother  grasped  the 
musket  that  stood  behind  the  door,  thinking 
that  he  had  gone  mad.  But  the  little  girl  knew 
the  signs,  and,  shielding  him,  begged  them  to 
go  out  and  look  for  the  Indians  she  felt  certain 
were  near.  Sure  enough,  beyond  the  tall  cot- 
tonwoods  that  formed  the  windbreak  to  the 
north  of  the  house  were  the  figures  of  a  dozen 
mounted  men,  silhouetted  against  the  sky. 
They  were  moving  cautiously  in  the  direction 


160    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

of  the  wire  cattle-pen;  but  as  a  big  brother 
challenged  them  with  a  halloo  and  followed  it 
with  a  musket  shot,  they  wheeled  and  dashed 
away.  The  last  glimpse  of  their  ponies  showed 
them  iapparently  riderless ;  which  proved  to  the 
little  girl's  big  brothers  that  the  marauders 
were  from  the  reservation  to  the  west. 

The  summer  was  at  its  full  and  the  wheat- 
fields  of  the  Vermillion  River  Valley  were  all 
but  ready  for  the  harvester  before  Badgy  began 
to  feel  a  yearning  for  his  own  kind  and  the 
freedom  of  the  open  prairie.  Then  he  often 
deserted  his  little  mistress  when  they  were 
walking  about  in  the  afternoon,  or  sneaked 
away  after  his  morning  nap  in  the  sun.  The 
first  time  he  disappeared  she  mourned  discon- 
solately for  him  all  day.  But  late  in  the  after- 
noon, as  she  sat  looking  across  the  grain,  wait- 
ing for  him  hopelessly,  she  forgot  her  loss  in 
watching  a  most  curious  thing  happening  in 
the  wheat.  Away  out  in  the  broad,  quiet  field 
there  was  a  small,  agitated  spot,  as  if  a  tiny 
whirlwind  were  tossing  the  heads  about.  The 
commotion  was  coming  nearer  and  nearer  every 
moment.  Now  it  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away 
—now  it  was  only  a  few  rods— now  it  was  al- 
most on  the  edge.  The  little  girl  scrambled  to 
her  feet,  half  inclined  to  run,  when  out  of 
the  tall  stalks  rolled  Badgy,  growling  at  every 
step  and  wagging  his  tired  head  from  side  to 
side! 


"BADGY"  161 

Often,  after  that,  he  did  not  come  home  until 
late  at  night,  when  she  would  hear  him  snarl- 
ing and  scratching  at  the  cellar  doors,  and  creep 
out  to  let  him  in.  Her  big  brothers  at  last 
warned  her  that  there  would  come  a  day  when 
Badgy  would  go,  never  to  return.  So  she  fitted 
a  collar  to  his  neck  and  led  him  when  she  went 
out,  and  kept  him  tied  the  rest  of  the  time. 
This  restriction  wore  upon  him  and  he  grew 
noticeably  thin. 

One  morning,  after  having  been  carefully 
locked  in  the  cellar  the  night  before,  he  did  not 
respond  to  the  little  girPs  call  from  the  doors. 
She  went  down  to  the  bin,  half  fearing  to  find 
him  dead.  He  was  not  there.  She  ran  about 
the  cellar  looking  for  him.  He  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  She  returned  to  the  bin  to  search 
there  again.  As  she  looked  in,  she  caught  sight 
of  a  great  heap  of  dirt  in  one  corner.  She 
jumped  over  the  side  and  ran  to  it,  divining 
at  once  what  it  meant.  Sure  enough,  beyond 
the  heap  was  a  hole,  freshly  dug,  that  led  up- 
ward—and out! 

The  little  girl  sat  back  on  the  heap  of  dirt 
and  pathetically  viewed  the  hole.  It  was  not 
that  he  would  not  come  back— she  knew  that 
he  would.  But  he  had  made  her  break  her 
promise  that  there  was  to  be  no  burrowing. 
She  resolved  to  say  nothing  about  the  hole, 
however;  and,  after  closing  it  completely  with 
u 


162    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

a  stone,  started  off  on  the  prairie  in  search  of 
him,  his  chain  in  her  hand. 

When  she  came  back  late,  she  found  him  in 
the  bin  and  gave  him  a  good  scolding.  He  an- 
swered it  with  angry  grunts,  and  to  punish  him 
she  locked  him  up  supperless.  But  it  was 
probably  no  hardship,  for  he  was  an  adept  in 
foraging  for  frogs  and  water-snakes. 

He  was  in  his  place  next  morning,  and  came 
scrambling  to  the  cellar  doors  when  she  opened 
them.  But  the  following  morning  he  did  not 
answer  her  call,  and  she  discovered,  on  going 
into  the  bin,  that  there  was  a  second  big  heap 
of  dirt  near  the  first.  She  plugged  the  hole, 
resolving,  as  before,  to  keep  his  misdeeds  a 
secret. 

For  six  weeks  this  alternate  digging  and 
plugging  went  on.  Sometimes  Badgy  bur- 
rowed himself  out  in  one  night,  sometimes  he 
would  not  succeed  in  reaching  the  top  by  the 
time  the  little  girl  called  him.  And  since  he 
emerged  under  cover  of  the  vacant  coal-shed 
and  kitchen  that  were  built  against  the  house 
as  a  lean-to,  his  depredations  were  not  discov- 
ered by  any  of  the  other  members  of  the  fam- 
ily. Once,  indeed,  he  was  nearly  caught,  for 
he  came  out  directly  in  front  of  the  kitchen 
door.  But  judicious  trampling  by  the  little 
girl  soon  reduced  the  soft  pile  of  dirt  he  had 
left  at  the  opening  to  hard  ground  again. 


"BADGY^^  163 

One  day  the  little  girPs  mother  found  that 
a  spool  of  thread  dropped  on  the  north  side  of 
the  room  rolled  to  the  south  side.  She  pointed 
out  the  phenomenon  to  the  little  girPs  big  bro- 
thers. They  declared  that  the  south  founda- 
tion must  be  giving  way.  An  investigation 
from  the  outside  led  them  into  the  shed,  where 
they  found  the  ground  perforated  with  count- 
less holes.  Then  they  went  into  the  cellar  to 
examine  further.  There  the  phenomenon  was 
explained  and  the  culprit  brought  to  light. 
Badgy  had  undermined  the  house ! 

The  little  girl  waited  in  the  garden  for  him 
that  night,  and  answered  his  grunt  of  friendly 
recognition  by  cuffing  him  soundly  on  the  ear. 
Then,  relenting,  she  took  him  in  her  arms  and 
wept  over  him.  Inside,  she  knew,  they  were 
plotting  to  kill  him.  They  had  declared  that 
he  should  not  live  another  day.  And,  as  she 
sobbed,  her  mind  was  searching  out  a  plan  to 
save  him.    Where  could  she  hide  him? 

She  sat  with  him  held  close  in  her  lap  for  a 
while,  watching  his  enemies  within.  Then  she 
started  on  a  long  detour,  with  the  new  haystack 
as  her  destination.  He  kept  close  to  her  heels, 
snarling  wearily.  A  few  days  before  she  had 
made  a  cave  in  the  stack,  which  stood  between 
the  barn  and  the  chicken-house.  The  cave  was 
on  the  side  nearest  the  coop,  and  she  decided  to 
conceal  him  in  it  and  fasten  him  there  by  his 


164    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

chain.  When  she  had  found  a  stake-pin  and  a 
large  stone,  she  led  him  in  and  drove  the  pin 
its  full  length  to  make  sure  that  he  should  not 
get  away.  Then  she  went  back  to  the  house  to 
secure  his  pardon  from  the  family  council  gath- 
ered about  the  supper  table. 

She  found  it  a  hard  task.  Her  big  brothers 
urged  Badgy's  toisl  uselessness  as  well  as  his 
growing  love  to  burrow,  forgetting  how  bravely 
he  had  always  stood  between  his  mistress  and 
any  real  or  fancied  danger.  The  little  girl  cried 
bitterly  as  she  begged  for  his  life,  and  vainly 
offered  the  entire  contents  of  her  tin  bank,  now 
carefully  hoarded  for  two  years,  to  help  repair 
the  damage  he  had  done.  She  was  finally  put 
to  bed  in  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  grief. 

When  she  was  gone,  the  memory  of  her  tear- 
stained  face  melted  her  brothers'  wrath.  They 
even  laughed  heartily  over  Badgy's  disastrous 
industry;  and  at  last,  relenting,  they  decided 
that  he  should  live,  provided  he  could  be  kept 
out  of  further  mischief.  The  little  girl  heard 
the  good  news  early  In  the  morning  and  was 
overjoyed.  She  declared  that  Badgy  should 
be  good  for  the  rest  of  his  days,  and  she  spent 
the  afternoon  fixing  up  the  new  quarters  in  the 
cave. 

For  the  first  few  nights  Badgy  was  chained 
in  order  to  wean  him  from  the  old  to  the  new 
home,  his  chain  being  made  so  short  that  he 


'^BADGY"  165 

could  not  dig  far  into  the  ground  under  the 
stack.  This  wore  upon  him  so  that  he  grew 
cross,  thinner  than  ever  before,  and  generally 
disheveled.  The  little  girl  saw  that  another 
week  of  such  confinement  would  all  but  kill  him ; 
while  if  he  were  shut  up  in  the  cave  unchained 
he  would  undermine  the  stack.  She  feared, 
however,  to  give  him  his  entire  freedom;  so 
she  set  to  work  to  puzzle  out  a  scheme  that 
would  solve  the  problem. 

At  last  she  hit  upon  an  idea  that  seemed 
practicable.  She  would  tie  up  his  fore  feet  so 
that  he  could  not  dig!  Then  he  could  go  un- 
chained in  the  cave,  with  only  the  door  of  it— 
the  top  of  a  big  dry-goods  box— to  restrict  his 
movements.  Aided  by  her  mother  ^s  scissors, 
some  twine,  and  a  piece  of  grain  sacking,  she 
put  the  idea  into  instant  execution. 

Badgy  did  not  like  the  innovation  at  all.  He 
squirmed  about  so  when  the  little  girl  was  tying 
up  his  feet  that  she  made  slow  progress.  And 
when  she  was  done,  he  tried  vainly  to  pull  off 
his  new  stockings  with  his  sharp  teeth,  grunt- 
ing his  disapprovel  at  every  tug.  He  worked 
himself  into  a  perfect  fury  as  he  bit  and  tore, 
and  finally  rolled  clumsily  to  the  back  of  the 
cave,  where  he  lay  growling  angrily. 

Pleased  with  her  success,  the  little  girl 
left  him.  But  she  had  failed  to  reckon  with 
Badgy 's  nature,  and  her  plan  was  doomed. 


166    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

It  was  now  early  autumn,— the  time  when 
Nature  tells  the  badgers  that  they  must  provide 
themselves  with  a  winter  retreat,— and  Badgy 
could  no  more  have  kept  from  burrowing  than 
he  could  have  resisted  eating  a  frog.  So  when 
the  dark  came  on,  he  went  to  work,  close  to  the 
door  of  the  cave,  burrowing  with  might  and 
main,  his  long  nose  loosening  the  dirt  for  his 
fore  feet  to  remove.  He  worked  so  fast  that 
it  was  only  a  few.  minutes  before  his  claws  came 
though  his  stockings.  Then  he  redoubled  his 
efforts,  and  dug  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Early  in  the  morning,  after  having  burrowed 
down  for  a  time,  then  along  a  level,  and,  finally, 
on  an  upward  slant,  as  instinct  directed  him 
to  do,  he  came  through  the  crust  of  the  earth. 
He  climbed  out  of  his  burrow  and  sat  upon  his 
haunches  at  its  mouth  to  rest  a  moment.  As 
he  did  so,  he  heard  a  sound  above  him  and 
looked  up  to  see  what  had  caused  it.  Over  his 
head  were  several  perches  on  which  sat  a  num- 
ber of  sleepy  fowls.  He  was  in  the  chicken- 
house  ! 

He  grunted  in  surprise,  and  at  the  sound  one 
of  the  chickens  uttered  a  long,  low,  warning  note 
that  awakened  the  others.  As  they  moved  on 
their  perches,  Badgy  eyed  them,  twisting  his 
head  from  side  to  side.  The  loose  dirt  cling- 
ing to  his  snout  and  breast  fell  off  with  his 
heavy  breathing,  and  his  stockings  hung  ragged 
and  soiled  about  his  front  legs. 


"BADGY"  167 

Suddenly  there  was  another  and  a  louder 
cry  of  danger  from  a  chicken,  following  a 
slight  noise  near  the  door  of  the  coop.  Badgy 
looked  that  way  to  see  what  was  coming,  and 
through  a  hole  in  the  sod  wall  made  out  the  evil 
face  of  a  mink,  peering  in.  It  came  closer,  and 
there  were  more  cries  from  the  chickens  over- 
head, for  they  had  recognized  the  approach  of 
their  mortal  enemy.  In  a  moment  his  long, 
shining  body  had  come  through  the  hole,  and 
he  had  paused,  crouching,  to  reconnoiter  before 
making  a  spring. 

Badgy  watched  him,  his  nose  curling  angrily, 
his  claws  working  back  and  forth.  Then,  as 
the  mink  crept  stealthily  forward,  measuring 
the  distance  to  a  pullet  on  a  lower  perch,  the 
badger  ambled  toward  him,  snarling  furiously, 
his  teeth  snapping  and  his  eyes  glowing  red 
with  hatred. 

The  fight  was  a  fierce  one,  and  the  cries  of 
the  two  animals  as  they  twisted  and  bit 
aroused  the  whole  barnyard.  The  chickens  set 
up  a  bedlam  of  noise,  flying  about  from  perch 
to  perch  and  knocking  one  another  off  in  their 
fright.  But  Badgy  and  the  mink  fought  on, 
writhing  in  each  other's  hold,  the  mink  striv- 
ing to  get  a  death-grip  on  Badgy 's  throat,  while 
he  tried  as  hard  to  rend  the  mink's  body  with 
his  teeth  and  claws. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  struggle,  the 
door  of  the  coop  was  thrown  open  and  a  man's 


168    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

figure  appeared.  The  animals  ceased  fighting 
instantly,  and  the  mink,  letting  go  his  hold,  dis- 
appeared down  the  hole  that  Badgy  had  dug. 
But  Badgy,  surprised  at  the  intrusion,  only 
stared  at  the  newcomer,  and  grunted  a  cross 
greeting  as  the  light  of  a  lantern  was  flashed 
upon  him,  sitting  there  crumpled  and  bloody. 

Next  morning,  when  the  little  girl  went  out 
to  the  haystack,  she  could  not  find  Badgy.  In- 
stead, as  she  pulled  aside  the  door  that  closed 
the  entrance  to  the  cave,  a  strange  animal  shot 
out  and  away  before  she  could  catch  a  glimpse 
of  it.  This  puzzled  her;  when  she  went  into 
the  cave  she  found  a  great  heap  of  dirt  that 
troubled  her  still  more.  She  saw  that  in  spite 
of  his  stockings,  Badgy  had  dug  himself  out. 
She  hunted  for  the  hole  that  she  knew  would 
tell  her  where  he  had  come  through  to  the  sur- 
face again,  but  she  could  not  find  it. 

She  began  to  run  here  and  there,  calling  him. 
There  was  no  answering  grunt.  She  thought  of 
the  potato-bin,  and  flew  to  the  cellar  to  see  if  he 
had  not  returned  to  his  old  home,  but  he  was 
not  there. 

That  night  he  did  not  return,  nor  the  next 
day,  nor  the  next.  No  one  could  tell  her  where 
he  had  gone.  For  he  had  disappeared  as  com- 
pletely as  if  the  earth  in  which  he  had  loved  to 
dig  had  swallowed  him  up. 


"BADGY^'  169 

Whenever  she  spoke  of  him  in  the  house 
among  the  family,  there  was  an  exchange  of 
glances  between  her  mother  and  the  eldest 
brother.  But  she  never  saw  it,— and  it  was 
just  as  well  that  she  did  not. 


XI 

A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK 

A  THIN  column  of  blue  smoke  was  ascending 
,  into  the  quiet  April  air  from  a  spot  far 
out  upon  the  prairie.  Against  the  eastern  sky, 
now  faintly  glowing  with  the  coming  dawn,  it 
stood  forth,  uniting  the  gray  heavens  and  the 
duller  plains,  as  straight  and  clear  as  a  signal- 
fire.    It  gave  warning  of  an  Indian  camp. 

The  family  at  the  farm-house,  called  from 
their  breakfast  by  the  baying  of  the  dogs,  gath- 
ered bareheaded  about  the  kitchen  door  and 
watched  the  mounting  pillar,  striving  to  make 
out  any  crouching  figures  at  its  base.  But  no 
hint  of  the  size  of  the  redskin  company  could 
be  gained;  and,  when  the  biggest  brother  had 
climbed  from  the  lean-to  to  the  ridge-pole  of  the 
roof  and  his  mother  had  peered  from  the  lesser 
height  of  the  attic  window,  they  could  not  even 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  top  of  a  tepee,  of  a  skulk- 
ing wolf-dog,  or  of  the  shaggy  coat  of  a  grazing 
pony. 

After  her  mother  and  the  three  big  brothers 
had  returned  to  the  table,  the  little  girl,  whom 

170 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  171 

the  barking  had  called  from  a  bowl  of  grits  and 
skimmed  milk  and  a  wash-pan  of  kerosene  in 
which  her  chilblained  feet  were  soaking,  strug- 
gled to  the  top  of  the  rain-barrel  at  the  comer 
of  the  house  and  anxiously  eyed  the  rising 
smoke.  Fresh  in  her  mind  was  the  murder  of 
the  Englishman  at  Crow  Creek,  whose  full 
granaries  and  fat  coops  had  long  tempted  rov- 
ing thieves  from  the  west;  and  the  slaying  of 
the  Du  Bois  family  on  the  James,  just  a  few 
miles  away.  Many  a  winter's  evening,  about 
the  sitting-room  stove,  and  often  in  the  twilight 
of  summer  days,  sheltered  by  her  mother's 
skirts,  she  had  heard  these  stories,  and  that 
other,  almost  within  her  own  memory,  terrible 
and  thrilling  to  frontier  ears,— the  massacre 
of  the  Little  Big  Horn. 

The  big  brothers  always  laughed  at  her 
fright  and  at  the  idea  of  any  possible  danger; 
yet  they  taught  her  to  know  an  Indian  camp- 
fire,  the  trail  of  an  Indian  pony,  and  the  print 
of  moccasined  feet,  and  told  her,  if  she  ever 
met  any  braves  on  the  plains,  to  leave  the  herd 
to  take  care  of  itself  and  ride  home  on  the  run. 
So,  remembering  only  their  warnings  and  for- 
getting their  confident  boasting  and  how  sure 
and  awful  was  the  punishment  meted  out  from 
the  forts  to  erring  wards  of  the  nation,  her 
days  were  haunted  by  prowling  savages  that 
waited  behind  every  hillock,  ridge,  and  stack; 


172    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIEIE  GIRL 

and  she  cried  aloud  in  her  sleep  at  night  when, 
on  dream-rides,  there  was  ever  an  ugly,  leer- 
ing face  and  a  horrid,  clutching  hand  at  her 
stirrup. 

But  if  the  big  brothers  did  not  share  her  fear 
of  the  Indians,  yet  they  guarded  well  the  farm- 
house and  bam  when  the  Sioux  passed  in  their 
pungs  in  winter  or  on  fleet  ponies  during  the 
summer  months.  And  when,  that  morning,  the 
fire  marked  the  near-by  camp,  there  was  no 
scattering  to  the  thawed  fields  where  the  plows 
stood  upright  in  the  furrows.  The  eldest  bro- 
ther busied  himself  in  the  handy  sorghum 
patch;  the  youngest  rounded  up  the  cattle  and 
sheep  and  drove  them  south  just  across  the  res- 
ervation road  to  the  first  bit  of  unturned 
prairie;  and  the  biggest  got  out  the  muskets 
and  loaded  them,  and  leashed  the  worst-tem- 
jpered  dogs  in  the  pack. 

And  so  the  morning  passed.  In  the  sorghum 
patch  the  eldest  brother  placidly  dropped  seed. 
Across  the  road  the  youngest  lay  on  his  back 
beside  his  herd  pony.  And,  inside,  by  a  win- 
dow, the  biggest  sat  and  watched  the  smoke, 
now  a  wavering  spiral  in  the  light  breeze  that 
fanned  the  prairie;  while  their  mother,  know- 
ing that  the  best  way  to  receive  an  Indian  is 
with  corn-cakes  and  coffee,  stood  over  the 
kitchen  stove.  But  the  little  girl  kept  her  sen- 
tinel place  on  the  rain-barrel  until  the  sun 


A   TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  173 

veered  her  shadow  from  the  side  of  the  house 
to  the  earth  bank  piled  against  it.  Then  she 
climbed  down  and,  running  to  the  sod  barn, 
saddled,  bridled,  and  mounted  the  swiftest 
horse  in  the  stalls  and  careered  back  and  forth 
between  house  and  stable  like  an  alert  scout. 

When  noon  came  and  the  cow-horn  sum- 
moned the  family  to  the  dinner-table,  not  a  sign 
of  an  Indian,  beyond  the  smoke,  had  been  seen. 
So,  by  the  end  of  the  meal,  it  was  decided  that 
a  visit  should  be  paid  the  camp  to  see  how  many 
braves  composed  it,  and  why  they  did  not  move 
on.  The  biggest  brother  volunteered  to  make 
the  ride,  and,  when  he  started  off,  the  little 
girl,  whose  horse  had  been  fretfully  gnawing 
the  clapboarding  at  the  corner  of  the  kitchen, 
also  mounted  and  followed  on  behind,  riding 
warily. 

They  skirted  the  corner  of  the  freshly  turned 
potato-field  and  wheeled  into  the  reservation 
road  behind  the  herd.  But  scarcely  had  they 
gotten  half-way  to  the  stony  rise  that  bordered 
the  eastern  end  of  the  potatoes,  when  they  saw, 
coming  over  its  brow  and  also  mounted,  an 
Indian.  He  was  riding  fast  toward  them,  and 
they  reined  and  stood  still  till  he  cantered  up. 

*  *  Hullo,  * '  said  the  biggest  brother,  noting  the 
fine  army  saddle  and  the  leather  bridle  with 
its  national  monogram  in  brass  as  the  redskin 
brought  his  horse  to  its  haunches. 


174    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

*^ Hullo/'  answered  the  Indian.  His  eyes 
had  an  anxious  look  in  them  as  he  glanced  from 
one  to  the  other. 

**What  you  wantT'  The  biggest  brother 
nodded  toward  the  smoke. 

The  Indian  waited  a  moment,  hitching  his 
blanket  impatiently  as  he  tried  to  find  an  Eng- 
lish word  with  which  to  reply.  Then,  failing, 
he  suddenly  slipped  from  his  horse  to  the 
ground,  threw  himself  flat  upon  his  face,  and 
began,  with  much  writhing,  to  breathe  heavily, 
as  if  in  great  pain. 

** Somebody  's  sick,''  said  the  biggest  bro- 
ther, and,  without  waiting,  he  clapped  his  heels 
against  his  horse's  sides  and  set  off  toward  the 
camp.  The  little  girl  came  after,  cantering  just 
in  advance  of  the  redskin,  whom  she  watched 
stealthily  from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

A  mile  out  to  the  east  the  trio  halted  for  a 
moment  on  a  low  ridge  and  looked  down  a  gen- 
tle slope  upon  the  camp.  It  was  pitched  where 
the  reservation  road  crossed  a  ravine,  and  at 
its  center,  beside  a  rivulet,  was  a  fire  of  buffalo- 
chips  from  which  the  smoke  steadily  arose. 
About  the  fire,  and  before  two  tepees,  sat  a  half- 
dozen  braves,  five  in  government  blankets,  with 
their  black  mops  bound  back,  the  sixth  in  flannel 
shirt,  leather  breeches  tucked  into  high  boots, 
and  a  broad  felt  hat  over  his  long  hair.  South 
of  the  fire,  in  the  ravine,  several  horses,  closely 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  175 

hobbled,  were  cropping  the  new  grass ;  and  be- 
tween them  and  the  tepees,  lying  half  under  a 
light  road  wagon,  was  an  animal  stretched  flat 
and  covered  with  blankets. 

**It  's  that  horse,''  said  the  biggest  brother. 
The  Indian  behind  him  grunted  and  rode  ahead 
down  the  slope,  and,  at  his  approach,  the  circle 
about  the  camp-fire  stood  up. 

As  the  face  of  the  Indian  wearing  the  wide 
hat  was  turned  toward  them,  the  little  girl  gave 
a  joyful  cry  and  whipped  her  horse  with  her 
rope  reins.  The  army  saddle  and  the  mono- 
grammed  bridle  were  no  longer  a  mystery,  the 
camp  was  no  longer  to  be  feared,— for  the  un- 
blanketed  brave  was  the  troop 's  scout  from  the 
reservation,  the  half-breed.  Eagle  Eye ! 

The  next  moment  he  was  explaining  how,  re- 
turning from  Sioux  Falls,  where  for  a  fort- 
night he  had  been  winning  admiration  for  his 
military  appearance,  his  feats  on  horseback,  and 
his  skill  with  the  rifle,  he  had  fallen  in  with  the 
party  of  Indians,  which  was  coming  back  from 
a  trip  beyond  the  Mississippi.  After  a  long, 
hard  ride  together  the  day  before,  they  had 
been  forced  to  go  into  camp  in  the  ravine  be- 
cause the  blue-roan  mare  which  one  of  them  was 
driving  had  suddenly  lain  down  and  refused  to 
rise.  And  she  had  remained  stretched  out 
since,  and  was  breathing  deep  and  painfully. 

When  the  biggest  brother  rode  over  to  where 


176    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

she  lay,  lie  saw  at  once  that  she  was  sorely 
stricken  with  pneumonia,  and  that  only  prompt 
attention  would  be  of  any  use.  Her  great 
brown  eyes  were  wide  and  starting  with  agony, 
her  delicate  nostrils  were  distended  and  dry, 
and  her  iron-gray  sides  were  heaving. 

**You  Ve  got  to  get  her  out  o'  here.  Eagle 
Eye,''  said  the  biggest  brother,  as  he  and  the 
little  girl  leaned  over  the  panting  animal; 
*  *  she  '11  go  in  no  time  on  this  wet  ground.  Sup- 
pose we  make  a  travee  and  haul  her  home." 

The  Indians  received  the  offer,  which  Eagle 
Eye  interpreted  for  them,  with  many  signs  of 
pleasure ;  and  in  a  moment  had  taken  down  the 
Cottonwood  lodge-poles  cut  the  previous  day, 
and  brought  straps  and  ropes.  But  it  was  mid- 
afternoon  before  the  rude  litter  was  finished. 
Two  poles  were  fastened  to  the  hind  axle  of  the 
wagon,  the  width  of  the  wheels  apart;  across 
them  other  poles  were  roped  after  having  been 
chopped  into  short  lengths ;  and  on  top  of  these 
were  laid  some  buffalo  robes,  blankets,  and 
straw.  Then  the  mare,  too  sick  to  resent  hand- 
ling, was  half  lifted  and  half  rolled  into  place. 
"When  the  journey  to  the  farm-house  was  made, 
the  tough  Indian  pony  between  the  shafts  was 
helped  in  the  hauling  by  a  plow  team  from  the 
barn. 

The  travee  was  untied  from  the  wagon  at  the 
stable,  and  the  three  big  brothers  helped  the 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  177 

Indians  to  drag  it  into  a  roomy  stall,  tlie  little 
girl  looking  on  all  the  while  sympathetically. 
Then  her  mother,  the  biggest  brother,  and 
Eagle  Bye  poulticed  the  throbbing  chest,  put 
compresses  on  the  silky  neck,  and  poured  one 
hot  drink  after  another  down  the  reluctant 
throat  of  the  blue  mare. 

They  worked  until  midnight.  But  when  the 
next  day  broke,  chill  and  drizzily,  the  horse 
seemed  worse  instead  of  better,  and  the  Indians, 
who  had  slept  with  their  guns  on  their  arms  at 
the  heads  of  their  saddled  ponies,  prepared  to 
go.  They  seemed  so  anxious  to  set  off  that 
the  big  brothers  were  suspicious  that  they  had 
stolen  the  animal  and  were  expecting  pursuit. 
The  fact  that  she  had  no  saddle-marks  on  her 
mottled  back,  and  that  they  had  cumbered  them- 
selves with  a  wagon,  bore  out  the  belief.  The 
eldest  brother  spoke  his  mind  to  Eagle  Eye,  but 
the  half-breed  only  said  that  Black  Cloud,  who 
claimed  to  own  her,  wished  to  sell  her  to  the 
brothers. 

**I  should  n't  wonder,''  sneered  the  eldest 
brother ;  *  *  she  '11  be  ready  for  the  pigs  by  noon. 
I  would  n't  take  her  as  a  gift,— and  you  can  tell 
'em  so." 

Eagle  Eye  turned  to  Black  Cloud  and  re- 
peated the  answer.  It  was  met  witii  the  look 
that  had  named  him,  and  a  mumbled  threat  that 
was  lost  on  the  white  men. 

12 


178    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  little  girl  had  been  standing  by  and  had 
heard  the  conversation.  She  suddenly  started 
for  the  house,  and,  when  she  came  flying  back 
a  moment  later,  she  had  her  tin  savings-bank 
grasped  tightly  in  one  fist.  Stopping  in  front 
of  the  scout,  she  held  it  out  to  him. 

*^ Eagle  Eye,"  she  panted,  *Hell  Black  Cloud 
I  '11  give  him  all  this  for  the  sick  horse— two 
whole  dollars.'' 

Again  the  half-breed  turned  to  the  glowering 
Indian.  But  this  time  the  evil,  dusky  face 
lighted,  and,  after  consulting  with  the  other  In- 
dians, he  took  the  bank  from  Eagle  Eye  and 
turned  out  and  counted  its  contents. 

**He  thanks  the  white  papoose,"  said  Eagle 
Eye,  returning  the  empty  bank  to  the  little  girl, 
**and  the  pony  is  yours." 

Happy  over  her  trade,  the  little  girl  rushed 
away  to  the  sick  horse,  while  the  eldest  bro- 
ther, enraged  at  her  interference  yet  not  daring 
to  stop  the  bargain,  mentally  promised  to  give 
her  a  lesson  later. 

'^If  the  mare  lives,"  he  said  aside  to  the 
biggest  brother,  **you  bet  these  thieves  '11  even 
things  up." 

The  evening  of  things  came  sooner  than  he 
expected.  For  at  sundown,  after  the  Indians 
had  departed,  the  swift  horse  ridden  to  their 
camp  by  the  little  girl  was  nowhere  to  be  found ! 

But,  angry  as  the  farm-house  felt  over  the 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  179 

theft,  the  big  brothers  Imew  that  it  would  be 
worse  than  foolhardy  to  try  to  recapture  their 
animal.  And  the  trade  seemed  likely  to  be  fair 
in  the  end,  after  all,— for  at  midnight  the 
family  saw  that  the  blue  mare  was  getting 
well! 

Shrieks  of  laughter  from  behind  the  bam, 
following  strange,  rapid  thumps  upon  the  bare 
ground,  led  the  three  big  brothers  in  that  di- 
rection one  May  morning,  and,  on  turning  the 
comer,  they  found  the  little  girl  leaning  con- 
vulsively against  the  old  straw  stack  for  sup- 
port, while  in  front  of  her,  blinded  by  a  big, 
red  handkerchief,  and  with  a  long  bolster  full 
of  hay  across  her  dappled  withers,  was  the  blue 
mare,  making  stiff,  wild  plunges  into  the  air, 
with  arched  back  and  head  held  low.  For  the 
little  girl  was  breaking  her  to  ride ! 

It  was  the  little  girl  who  broke  the  horses 
on  the  farm  to  ride.  She  played  with  them  as 
colts,  and,  with  her  light  weight,  mounted  them 
long  before  they  were  old  enough  to  carry  any 
one  heavier,  and  yet  were  too  old  to  be  sway- 
backed.  She  tried  them  first  as  they  stood  tied 
in  their  stalls,  crawling  carefully  upon  them 
from  the  manger.  Later,  she  rode  them  at  a 
walk  up  and  down  the  reservation  road. 

She  had  learned  the  First  Eeader  of  the  sad- 
dle on  the  St.  Bernard's  wide,  slipping  back. 


180    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  pinto  had  been  the  Second,  and  she  had 
then  passed  rapidly  to  the  graduation  class  of 
frisky  calves  and  lean,  darting  shoats.  Now, 
for  two  years,  all  the  horses  sold  at  the 
reservation  by  the  big  brothers  had  been  of  her 
training,  and  the  troopers  vowed  that  no  gen- 
tler, better  mounts  had  ever  been  in  the  ser- 
vice. Her  mother  viewed  the  colt-breaking 
tremblingly,  and  the  big  brothers  declared  that 
the  little  girl  would  be  buried  some  day  with  a 
broken  neck.  But  the  little  girl  said  nothing, 
and  continued  her  riding  fearlessly,  knowing 
that  love,  even  with  horses,  makes  all  things 
easy,— except  the  breaking  of  the  blue  mare. 

Thirteen  hands  stood  the  blue  mare,  sound, 
clean-limbed,  and  beautiful,  and  the  markings 
of  her  sharp  front  teeth  showed  that  she  was 
but  four.  From  velvet  muzzle  to  sweeping  tail, 
from  mottled  croup  to  fetlocks,  she  shone  in  the 
sunlight  like  corn-silk.  Her  mane  was  black 
and  waved  to  her  wide  chest,  and  her  heavy 
forelock  hid  an  inwardly  curving  nose  that 
proved  an  Arab  strain.  And  when,  after  many 
spirited  bouts  with  the  hay  bolster,  the  little 
girl  finally  won  her  over  to  a  soft  blanket  and 
a  stirruped  girth,  she  showed  the  endurance 
and  strength  of  a  mustang,  the  speed  of  a  racer, 
and  the  gait  of  a  rocking-chair. 

She  was  so  tall  that  she  could  not  be  climbed 
upon,  like  a  pony,  from  the  upper  side  of  slop- 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  181 

ing  ground  or  from  the  stone  pile  on  the  car- 
nelian  bluff,  and  too  skittish  to  allow  a  bare 
foot  to  be  thrust  behind  her  sleek  elbows  as  a 
step  to  her  back,  so  the  little  girl  invented  a  new 
method  of  mounting.  Her  nose  was  coaxed  to 
the  ground  by  the  offer  of  a  choice  wisp  of 
grass,  and,  as  her  neck  was  lowered,  the  little 
girl  carefully  put  one  leg  over  her  glossy  crest 
and  gave  her  a  slap  to  start  her,— when  the  blue 
mare  raised  her  head  and  the  little  girl  hedged 
along  to  her  back,  facing  rearward.  Then  she 
slowly  turned  about ! 

Herding  on  the  blue  mare's  back  became  a 
pleasure,  not  a  despised  duty,  and  long  jaunts 
to  the  station,  ten  miles  away,  for  mail  or  gro- 
ceries, were  welcomed.  The  eldest  brother, 
too,  had  ceased  to  scold  the  little  girl  for  the 
trade  with  Black  Cloud  or  for  the  loss  of  the 
horse  that  was  stolen.  For  the  blue  mare  was 
worth  two  of  the  other. 

The  subject  hardly  ever  came  up  in  the  farm- 
house any  more ;  when  it  did,  it  only  served  to 
remind  the  little  girl  of  a  dread  prophecy  of 
the  Swede,  that,  in  good  time,  the  swarthy 
brave  would  pass  that  way  again! 

The  little  girl  always  grew  white  at  the  bare 
thought.  And  often  the  dream  of  the  leering 
face  and  the  clutching  hand  would  follow  her 
by  day.  If  she  entered  the  barn,  cruel  eyes 
watched  her  from  out  dim  comers ;  if  she  rode 


182    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

through  the  corn-field,  now  waist  high,  the 
leaves  rustled  a  mysterious  warning  to  her. 
**Kun— run!^'  they  whispered,  and  the  little 
girl  obeyed  and  sought  the  safety  of  the  open 
prairie. 

But  there  were  hours  of  proud  security, 
when,  with  the  Swede  boy  as  an  audience,  or, 
better  still,  with  the  colonel's  son,  she  put  the 
blue  mare  through  her  wonderful  trick.  This 
trick  had  been  discovered  accidentally  by  the 
little  girl.  One  morning,  when  she  was  break- 
ing the  horse,  she  put  one  hand  back  playfully 
and  pinched  her  on  the  croup  to  see  if  she  would 
buck,— and,  instead,  she  promptly  lay  down! 
Afterward,  the  same  pinch  brought  her  again 
to  the  ground,  and  the  little  girl  found  that  it 
needed  barely  a  touch  to  make  the  mare  per- 
form. But  however  delighted  she  was  over  her 
discovery,  the  little  girl  never  mounted  the 
prostrate  horse,  for  she  was  afraid  that  she 
might  roll  upon  her. 

The  days  had  passed,  and  it  was  now  haying- 
time.  But  the  mowers  stood  idle  beneath  their 
sheds,  and  the  work-horses  grazed  contentedly 
with  their  heads  to  the  south,  for  a  rain  was 
passing  over  the  prairie.  Inside  the  farm- 
house, the  little  girl,  standing  against  the 
blurred  panes,  rebelled  against  the  showers, 
and  fretted  for  the  blue  mare  and  a  gallop ;  the 
biggest  brother,  buried  deep  in  a  book,  thanked 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  183 

Providence;  while  the  eldest,  remembering  the 
uncovered  cocks  in  the  timothy  meadow,  cursed 
the  storm. 

Toward  evening,  the  third  day  of  the  down- 
pour, however,  the  clouds  lifted.  A  new  moon 
appeared,  holding  its  chin  up,— a  promise  of 
sunshine,— and  the  little  girl  ran  happily  to  the 
bam,  slipped  a  lariat  into  the  blue  mare's 
mouth,  secured  it  with  a  thong  under  the  jaw, 
and,  bareback,  started  toward  the  sloughs  be- 
yond the  reservation  road  to  bring  home  the 
herd.  When  she  was  a  mile  away,  the  eldest 
brother  followed  her,  for  he  wanted  to  see  if 
the  grass  around  the  farthest  slough  would 
make  good  cutting.  He  rode  the  bald-faced 
pony,  and  across  his  pommel  was  slung  his 
musket. 

The  little  girl  did  not  see  him.  Content  with 
the  blue  mare  beneath  her,  her  mind  busy,  she 
rode  on.  And  her  voice,  shrill,  and  broken  by 
her  cantering,  floated  back  to  the  eldest  brother 
in  snatches: 

" Scotland  's  burning!  Scotland  's  burning ! 
Fire!     Fire!     Fire!     Fire! 
More  water !    More  water ! " 

Then  she  disappeared  over  the  ridge  on  her 
descent  to  the  herd. 

The  eldest  brother  urged  his  horse  a  little  to 
try  to  catch  up  with  her.    But  she  was  going 


184    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

faster  now,  too,  and  when  he  reached  the  top 
of  the  ridge  she  was  in  the  tall  grass  between 
him  and  the  cattle,  and  he  could  just  see  her 
bobbing  sailor  hat  and  the  flying  tail  of  the  blue 
mare. 

Her  song  ceased  as  she  neared  the  herd,  for 
twilight  was  coming  down  and  the  meadow 
blades  had  taken  up  the  same  soft  warnings 
that  she  had  heard  in  the  corn.  Above  her, 
homing  birds  called  to  each  other,  and  bull- 
frogs croaked  from  the  sloughs  at  her  horse's 
feet.  There  flashed  into  her  mind  the  night- 
and-day  horror  of  the  Indian's  face  and  hand, 
and  she  began  to  whistle  a  little  to  rally  heart 
as  she  rode  beyond  the  cows  to  turn  a  stray. 

But  suddenly  the  sound  died  on  her  lips. 
For  up  from  the  earth  rose  the  ugly,  leering 
face,  and  out  of  the  grass  came  the  horrid, 
clutching  hand !  With  a  choking  cry,  the  little 
girl  struck  her  horse,  but  the  next  instant  was 
flung  down  from  her  seat,  and  Black  Cloud, 
rifle  in  hand,  swung  himself  to  her  place. 

He  dared  not  fire  for  fear  of  sounding  an 
alarm,  and  he  dared  not  wait  an  instant  to  club 
with  his  gun-stock  the  little  girl,  lying  stunned 
and  half-dead  with  fear.  Without  a  backward 
look,  he  drove  the  blue  mare  out  of  the  meadow 
to  the  prairie  and  turned  her  toward  the  river. 

But  the  eldest  brother  was  scarcely  a  half- 
mile  behind  him.     And,  as  the  strange  form 


A  TRADE  AND  A  TRICK  185 

came  into  view,  going  like  the  wind  through 
the  gathering  gloom,  he  guessed  what  had  hap- 
pened. He  whipped  the  hald-face  wildly,  fol- 
lowing the  blue  mare.  And  a  race  for  the  Ver- 
million began! 

But  it  was  an  uneven  one.  In  a  few  leaps 
the  mare  had  lengthened  the  distance  between 
her  and  the  bald-face.  Discouraged,  and  anx- 
ious to  know  what  had  become  of  the  little  girl, 
the  eldest  brother  resolved  to  stop.  But  as  he 
did  so,  he  raised  his  musket  and  sent  a  load  of 
buckshot  after  the  fleeting  brave. 

The  Indian,  safe  from  pursuit,  answered  it 
with  a  derisive  whoop,  and,  turning  his  body 
around,  still  going  swiftly,  waved  his  rifle  tri- 
umphantly aloft  in  his  right  hand  and,  look- 
ing back,  leaned  for  an  instant  with  the  other 
on  the  blue  mare's  croup! 

The  horse  obeyed  the  sign  like  a  flash.  As 
if  the  eldest  brother's  shot  had  found  her  heart, 
she  stopped  dead  still  and  threw  herself  upon 
the  ground,— and  Black  Cloud,  his  face  for 
once  almost  white,  lunged  forward,  struck  his 
head  with  crushing  force  against  a  boulder 
on  the  river's  edge,  and  lay  as  motionless  as  the 
rock  itself ! 

Eakly  that  night,  when  the  prairie  lay  still 
and  sweet,  and  the  new  moon  was  swimming 
westward  .from   cloud-island   to    cloud-island. 


186    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  gray  buffalo-wolves  came  up  the  Vermil- 
lion on  their  way  to  the  sheep-pen  of  the  Swede, 
and  waked  the  drowsing  valley  with  their  howl- 
ing. But  the  trembling  ewes  and  their  babies 
were  not  molested;  for  when  the  pack  reached 
the  river  bank  near  the  farthest  slough,  they 
halted  to  quarrel  at  a  boulder— till  the  sun  came 
up  in  the  east  again  and  glittered  on  a  string  of 
glass  wampum  lying  beside  the  rock. 


L'N/V- 


XII 
THE  PROFESSOR^S   "FIND" 

A  NIMBUS  of  mystery  clung  to  the  pro- 
fessor the  first  two  days  of  his  stay.  His 
arrival,  late  one  afternoon,  in  the  sewing- 
machine  man's  buggy,  was  as  unexplained  as 
it  was  imexpected ;  and  when  he  was  shown  to 
the  little  girPs  room,  which  she  hospitably  re- 
linquished, he  volunteered  neither  his  name  nor 
his  place  of  residence.  The  following  morning 
he  left  the  house,  carrying  a  small  paper  box 
and  a  black  hand-bag,  and  crossed  the  fields  to 
the  prairie,  where  he  ran  about,  his  spare  figure 
stooped,  as  if  he  were  picking  something,  while 
his  left  hand  held  an  instrument  that  flashed  in 
the  sun.  On  his  return  at  noon,  his  box  and 
bag  were  closed,  and  only  a  green  stain  on  his 
fingers  gave  any  suggestion  of  what  he  had 
been  doing.  He  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day 
quietly  in  his  room. 

The  big  brothers  made  various  conjectures 
about  him.  The  eldest  declared  that  he  was 
searching  for  minerals;  the  biggest  thought 

187 


188    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

him  a  government  agent  on  a  secret  mission; 
"while  the  youngest,  to  the  terror  of  the  little 
girl,  who  had  not  recovered  from  her  adven- 
ture of  a  month  before  with  Black  Cloud, 
hinted  at  a  dark  purpose  and  openly  asserted 
that  it  was  dangerous  to  have  the  professor  in 
the  house.  But,  since  their  mother  would  not 
permit  any  questioning,  their  curiosity  was  not 
satisfied  nor  their  fears  allayed  until  the  pro- 
fessor, unasked,  revealed  his  identity. 

Then  it  "was  ridiculously  simple.  He  was  a 
professor  in  the  botanical  department  of  an 
Eastern  university,  and  had  come  West  to  ob- 
tain floral  specimens.  The  paper  box  held  his 
fresh  finds ;  the  bag,  a  telescope  with  which  to 
distinguish  plants  not  easily  accessible,  and  a 
microscope  to  study  those  close  at  hand.  In 
his  trunk  were  heavy  blank  books  filled  with 
dried  leaves,  pressed  blossoms,  and  scientific 
notes. 

When  the  little  girl  heard  that  he  taught  in 
one  of  those  colleges,  remote  and  wonderful, 
of  which  she  dreamed,  her  suspicions  were 
straightway  transformed  into  reverence.  She 
listened  eagerly  to  his  every  word,  watched 
him,  agape  with  interest,  as  he  wrote  at  the 
sitting-room  table,  and  hung  at  his  heels,  happy 
and  fascinated,  when  he  walked  up  and  down, 
smoking  a  cigar,  under  the  ash  trees  in  the 
twilight. 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  189 

On  the  other  hand,  the  big  brothers  respected 
him  less  than  ever.  To  them  flower-hunting, 
as  an  occupation,  seemed  trivial  and  effemi- 
nate. Flowers,  though  they  were  well  enough 
in  their  proper  places,— the  front  garden  or  the 
grass,— were  usually  a  nuisance  that  crept 
through  the  crops  and  choked  their  growth, 
until  descended  upon  and  tediously  jerked  up, 
one  after  another,  by  the  roots.  And  a  man 
who  could  give  his  entire  time  not  only  to  the 
collection  of  nosegays  but  to  the  gathering  of 
weeds,  could  not  have  the  esteem  of  the  big  bro- 
thers. All  three,  whenever  they  spoke  ef  him, 
raised  their  shoulders  contemptuously,  after 
the  manner  of  ' '  Frenchy.  * ' 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  their  atti- 
tude changed.  The  professor  was  so  gentle 
and  courteous,  yet  so  firm  and  convincing,  and 
so  full  of  knowledge  concerning  things  about 
them  of  which  they  were  entirely  ignorant,  that 
they  soon  came  to  view  him  seriously.  The 
eldest  and  the  youngest  brothers  even  took 
turns  at  driving  him  on  long  trips  in  the  buck- 
board,  and  the  biggest  loaned  him  a  pair  of 
rubber  boots  so  that  he  could  hunt  in  swamps 
and  wet  meadows  for  bristly  buttercups  and 
crowfoot. 

After  she  found  out  that  he  was  a  pro- 
fessor, the  little  girl  always  accompanied  him 
on  his  jaunts.    Before  that,  the  herd  being  in 


190    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  care  of  the  Swede  boy,  she  spent  the  days 
either  in  skilfully  outlining  on  a  wide  board, 
by  means  of  a  carpenter  ^s  pencil  and  an  over- 
turned milk-pan,  cart-wheels  for  the  box  of 
the  little  red  wagon,  or  in  playing  *^ Pilgrim's 
Progress,''  seated  on  an  empty  grain-sack 
which  Bruno,  snarling  with  delight,  dragged 
by  his  teeth  along  the  reservation  road  from 
the  Slough  of  Despond  to  the  gates  of  the  Ce- 
lestial City.  She  also  helped  her  mother  pre- 
pare for  the  coming  Fourth  of  July  celebration 
at  the  station. 

But  she  gave  up  everything  to  go  with  the 
professor  while  he  scoured  the  prairie  to  the 
north,  east,  and  south,  and  burdened  herself 
willingly  with  the  lunch-bucket  and  his  um- 
brella. From  dawn  till  noon,  for  a  whole  fort- 
night, she  trotted  beside  him,  straining  her  eyes 
to  catch  sight  of  some  plant  he  had  not  yet  seen, 
and  tearing  here  and  there  to  pluck  posies  for 
his  bouquet.  When,  however,  there  remained 
to  be  searched  only  a  wide  strip  bordering  the 
Vermillion,  she  remained  at  home. 

The  professor  carried  forward  his  work 
along  the  river  enthusiastically,  planning  to 
finish  by  the  eve  of  the  celebration,  so  that  he 
could  accompany  the  family  to  the  station  on 
the  morning  of  the  Fourth,  and  there  take  the 
afternoon  local  going  east.  He  tramped  up 
and  down  the  bluffs,  finding  many  a  rare  shrub 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  191 

in  high,  suimy  spots  or  low,  sheltered  nooks, 
and  returning  to  the  farm-house  only  when  he 
was  laden  with  spoil.  But  it  was  on  his  very 
last  excursion  that  he  discovered  something 
really  remarkable. 

He  visited  a  point  far  up  the  valley,  where 
the  banks  were  precipitous  and  came  close  to- 
gether. At  their  base  lay  narrow  reaches  of 
sand  between  which,  even  at  its  lowest,  the 
river  hurried;  and  when  it  was  swelled  by 
heavy  rains  or  melting  snow,  it  rushed  through 
boisterously  and  spat  high  to  right  and  left 
against  the  walls. 

The  western  side,  with  its  southern  exposure, 
was  the  greener.  Box-elders  belted  its  foot, 
growing  at  a  sharp  angle  to  the  side.  Above 
the  elders  an  aspen  thrust  out  its  slender  trunk, 
and,  still  higher,  grass  and  weeds  protruded. 
Where  the  cliff  was  of  solid  rock,  trailing  wild- 
bean  drooped  across  and  softened  it.  But  the 
professor,  after  sweeping  it  carefully  with  his 
glass  and  finding  no  new  specimens  upon  it,  re- 
solved not  to  waste  his  time  and  labor,  and 
turned  his  attention  opposite. 

Though  almost  bare,  for  it  faced  the  north, 
the  eastern  precipice  still  was  promising.  No 
trees  interrupted  its  rise,  and  the  stones  that, 
midway,  coincided  with  it  were  uncovered. 
Low  down  were  scattered  clumps  of  wild  black 
currant  and  clusters  of  coral-berry.    But  above 


192    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  stones,  bending  temptingly  forward  into 
plain  view,  was  a  cactus  which  the  professor 
had  long  sought. 

He  determined  to  scale  the  wall  and  secure 
the  plant.  Dropping  the  paper  box  and  the 
hand-bag,  he  toiled  from  the  sand  to  a  first  nar- 
row ledge,  from  there  to  the  currant  bushes, 
and  thence  higher,  by  relying  for  a  foothold 
upon  snake  holes  and  crevices.  Once  having 
gained  the  flat  stones,  the  climb  was  over.  He 
had  only  to  put  out  his  hand  and  gather  the 
cactus. 

But  its  stalk  remained  unbroken.  For  his 
eye,  traveling  over  the  rock  to  which  he  was 
clinging,  made  out  a  figure  and  some  letters 
cut  deep  into  its  red-gray  surface.  He  looked 
at  them  with  interest,  then  with  mingled  plea- 
sure and  doubt,  and  lastly  with  wonder.  And 
he  trembled  as,  with  one  hand,  he  finally  drew 
a  small  blank-book  from  an  inner  coat  pocket 
and  began  to  copy.  He  realized  at  once  that, 
though  it  did  not  relate  to  floral  science,  he  had 
ended  by  making  a  most  notable  find. 

Having  finished,  and  put  away  his  pencil  and 
book,  he  studied  the  figure  and  letters  care- 
fully for  a  few  moments,  and  then  descended 
slowly  to  the  sand.  All  thoughts  of  growing 
things  had  faded  from  his  mind ;  in  their  stead 
came  crowding  others  that  pictured  possible 
fame.    He  sat  down  to  rest  and  think  beside 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  193 

the  box  and  the  hand-bag,  and  stayed  there, 
bowed  over,  his  spectacles  in  his  hands,  his  eyes 
roving  thoughtfully,  until  the  sun  was  so  low 
that  the  little  canon  was  in  gloom. 

At  suppertime  he  announced  his  discovery 
to  the  big  brothers  and  their  mother.  They 
received  the  news  with  amazement.  The  week 
previous  he  had  declared  that  the  plains  were 
once  covered  by  a  vast  ocean,  and  had  proved 
his  assertion  by  showing  them  sea-shells  at  the 
top  of  the  carnelian  bluff.  So  they  expressed 
their  intention  of  visiting  the  cliffs,  never 
doubting  his  second  and  almost  incredible 
statement  that,  long  before  the  Indians  came 
to  inhabit  the  surrounding  country,  it  had  been 
the  home  of  a  superior  race  of  Latin  origin. 

The  little  girl  was  at  the  table  and  heard  the 
professor's  story;  and  she  showed  some  agita- 
tion as  she  listened  with  downcast  eyes.  She 
knew  more  about  the  red-gray  rock  and  its 
scribblings  than  she  cared  to  tell  before  the  big 
brothers,  for  she  had  spent  one  whole  happy 
afternoon  in  the  canon  with  the  colonel's  son, 
watching  him  as  he  scrambled  up  the  south 
bank,  with  the  agility  and  sure-footedness  of 
a  goat,  and  hung  for  an  hour  in  mid-air  by  one 
hand.  So,  while  she  ate  her  bread  and  smear- 
case,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  follow  the  pro- 
fessor after  the  meal  was  over  and  unburden 
herself. 

13 


194    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

But  no  chance  to  see  him  alone  was  afforded 
her.  He  disappeared  to  pack  his  trunk  while 
she  was  doing  the  dishes,  and  did  not  emerge 
again  during  the  evening.  She  squatted  under 
his  window  for  a  while  in  the  dark,  hoping  that 
he  would  look  out,  and  gave  up  her  watch 
only  when  she  heard  him  snoring.  Then  she, 
too,  went  to  bed,  where  she  lay  turning  and 
twisting  until  after  midnight.  Dropping  off, 
at  last,  she  dreamed  that  she  and  the  colonel's 
son  had  been  court-martialed  by  the  professor 
and  were  to  be  shot  at  the  celebration. 

Breakfast  was  eaten  at  three  o'clock  next 
morning,  and  at  sun-up  the  light  wagon  and 
the  buckboard  were  ready  for  the  drive  to  the 
station.  Every  one  had  been  so  busy  since  ris- 
ing that  the  professor's  discovery  was  not 
mentioned.  In  fact,  the  big  brothers  and  their 
mother  had  forgotten  it ;  the  little  girl  thought 
of  it  many  times,  however,  and  hoped  each  mo- 
ment that  she  could  speak  privately  to  the  pro- 
fessor. And  he,  as  he  took  his  seat  in  the  buck- 
board,  remembered  it  and  smiled  contentedly, 
never  suspecting  that  the  youngest  brother, 
riding  beside  him,  had  secretly  planned  to  file 
at  once  a  claim  on  the  quarter-section  that  in- 
cluded the  little  canon  so  that  the  red-gray  rock 
should  be  lawfully  his. 

Arrived  at  the  station,  all  became  occupied 
with  the  celebration.    While  the  big  brothers 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  195 

took  care  of  the  horses,  their  mother  and  the 
little  girl  changed  their  dresses  at  the  hotel. 
The  professor  hunted  up  the  grand  marshal, 
held  a  whispered  conversation  with  him,  and 
was  assigned  a  place  in  the  procession.  For 
the  scientist  purposed  that  the  day  should  be 
more  than  one  of  national  commemoration  to 
the  townspeople:  it  should  be  one  of  local  re- 
joicing. 

This  was  the  first  public  holiday  ever  ob- 
served at  the  station,  for  it  was  still  very 
young.  Two  years  before,  when  the  railroad 
crept  up  to  it  and  passed  it,  it  consisted  of  a 
lonely  box-car  standing  in  the  center  of  a 
broad,  level  tract  flecked  with  anemones.  The 
next  week,  thanks  to  a  sudden  boom,  the  box- 
car gave  place  to  a  board  depot,  with  other 
pine  structures  springing  up  all  about,  and  to 
long  lines  of  white  stakes  that  marked  the  ave- 
nues, streets,  and  alleys  of  a  future  city.  Now 
it  consisted  of  half  a  hundred  houses  and  stores 
surrounded  by  as  many  shanties  and  dugouts. 

The  streets  were  gay  with  color.  Every- 
where festoons  of  red,  white,  and  blue  swung 
in  the  morning  breeze,  and  flags  flapped  from 
improvised  poles.  Horses  with  ribbons  braided 
into  their  manes  and  tails  dashed  about,  carry- 
ing riders  who  were  importantly  arranging  for 
the  procession,  and  who  wore  broad  sashes  of 
tricolored  bunting. 


196    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

The  crowds  added  further  to  the  brightness 
of  the  scene.  Soldiers  in  uniform,  frontiers- 
men in  red  shirts  and  leather  breeches,  far- 
mers and  men  of  the  town,  dressed  in  their  best, 
and  Indians  in  every  imaginable  style  of  rai- 
ment, filled  the  saloons  and  shooting  galleries, 
where  they  kept  the  glasses  clinking  and  the 
bells  a- jangle.  Women  and  children,  in  light 
dresses  and  flower-trimmed  hats,  lined  the 
scanty  sidewalks  and  the  store  porches,  with 
a  fringe  of  squaws  and  Indian  babies  seated  in 
the  weeds  beside  the  way  or  on  the  steps  at 
their  feet. 

But  at  ten  o'clock  both  men  and  women 
came  into  the  open,  for  the  procession  had 
formed  across  the  track  in  the  rear  of  the  depot 
and  was  advancing.  Excitement  was  high. 
Crackers  were  popping  on  all  sides,  horses 
were  prancing  wildly,  frightened  by  the  un- 
usual clatter,  and  people  were  laughing  and 
shouting  to  one  another  as  they  craned  to 
catch  a  first  glimpse  of  the  oncoming  cortege. 

A  silence  fell  suddenly  as  the  grand  marshal 
rounded  the  depot,  leading  the  way  north  to 
the  grove  where  the  exercises  were  to  be  held. 
Behind  and  flanking  him  rode  his  aides,  and 
in  their  rear  walked  the  band,  a  few  in  a  pre- 
scribed dress  of  red  caps,  blue  coats,  and  white 
trousers,  others  lacking  in  one  or  more  details 
of  it,  but  jauntily  wearing  substitutes  in  the 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  197 

shape  of  straw  hats  and  store  clothes.  About 
them  trailed  a  gang  o^  small  boys,  an  inevitable 
though  uninvited  part  of  every  procession, 
and,  after,  rumbled  heavy  floats  representing 
events  in  the  history  of  America,— General  and 
Mrs.  Washington  at  Mount  Vernon,  Pocahon- 
tas rescuing  Captain  John  Smith,  Lincoln  free- 
ing the  Slaves,  and  Columbus  greeting  the  Red- 
men.  Following  was  a  company  of  cavalry 
from  the  reservation,  with  the  colonel  and  his 
son  at  their  head,  and  a  band  of  Indians,  naked 
but  for  their  breech-cloths,  and  in  war-plumes 
and  paint,  that  whooped  and  brandished  their 
bows  and  arrows  as  they  bolted  from  side  to 
side. 

But  the  crowning  feature  of  the  parade  came 
next.  It  was  a  hay-rack  wound  over  every  inch 
of  its  wide,  open  frame  with  the  national  colors, 
drawn  by  four  white  horses,  and  bearing  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty,  Columbia,  Dakota,  and  a 
score  of  girls  who  represented  the  States  and 
Territories,  and  who  wore  filmy  white  frocks, 
red  garlands  on  their  hair,  blue  girdles  about 
their  waists,  and  ribbons  lettered  in  gilt  across 
their  breasts. 

To  the  family,  as  to  many,  the  passing  of  the 
rack  was  a  proud  moment,  for  the  little  girl 
rode  upon  it-  Like  her  companions,  she  was 
hatless,  and  she  shone  out  from  among  them 
as  she  stood  directly  behind  the  goddess,  be- 


198    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

cause  her  hair,  a  two  years'  growth— she  was 
now  nine  and  a  half  years  old— rippled  luxuri- 
antly about  her  face. 

Her  place  in  the  rack  had  been  assigned  her 
as  a  special  honor.  It  was  found,  when  the 
girls  assembled  to  receive  their  garlands  and 
colors,  that  there  were  not  enough  of  them  to 
represent  fully  the  map  of  the  United  States. 
So  the  little  girl,  being  the  last  to  arrive,  was 
given  three  ribbons  bearing  the  names  of  Cali- 
fornia, Texas,  and  Minnesota. 

As  the  hay-wagon  rolled  by  the  family,  the 
compliment  paid  the  little  girl  did  not  escape 
their  eyes.  The  cattleman,  too,  observed  it, 
and  proudly  expressed  himself  to  the  biggest 
brother:  **Say!''  he  whispered,  ** don't  she 
cover  a  lot  o'  terrytory!'' 

The  little  girl  was  aware  of  the  attention  she 
was  attracting,  and  she  kept  a  graceful  poise, 
looking  neither  to  one  side  nor  the  other.  Each 
girl  on  the  rack  held  something  in  her  hands 
that  suggested  the  wealth  of  the  particular 
State  she  symbolized.  So  the  little  girl  wore, 
just  under  her  collar,  the  picture  of  a  fat  beef 
as  an  appropriate  emblem  of  Texas,  while  in 
one  hand  she  carried  a  gilded  stone  to  recall 
California's  riches,  and,  in  the  other,  through 
the  instigation  of  the  grand  marshal,  who  had 
once  been  jailed  at  St.  Paul,  she  held  aloft  a 
wad  of  cotton  batting  to  emphasize  the  annual 
snowfall  of  the  rival  State  to  the  east. 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND''  199 

The  end  of  the  procession  consisted  of  deco-' 
rated  buggies— in  which  sat  the  orator  of  the 
day,  a  local  poet,  the  school-teacher  at  the  sta- 
tion, the  minister,  the  professor,  and  a  dozen 
prominent  citizens— and  a  rabble  of  horribles 
and  plug-uglies  that  rent  the  air  with  yells; 
as  it  went  by,  it  bore  the  admiring  crowd  in  its 
train.  When  the  grand  stand  was  reached,  the 
people  quickly  filled  the  board  benches  which 
had  been  put  up  for  them,  while  the  principals 
in  the  festivities  settled  themselves  pictur- 
esquely upon  the  platform. 

It  was  after  twelve  o^clock,  so  the  program 
opened  at  once.  The  professor,  sitting  well 
in  the  foreground,  fidgeted  inwardly  and  hoped 
that  the  train  on  which  he  was  to  depart  would 
not  arrive  before  he  had  had  his  opportunity. 
But  he  sat  smiling,  nevertheless,  throughout 
the  opening  prayer  by  the  minister,  the  address 
of  the  day  and  the  reading  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  by  the  orator,  the  verses  of 
the  poet,  the  teacher's  song,  and  four  band 
pieces.  On  his  lap  were  two  large  squares  of 
white  pasteboard  which  he  fingered  nervously, 
and  every  two  or  three  minutes  he  took  note  of 
the  time. 

'When  his  turn  came  at  last,  it  was  with  calm 
dignity,  as  becomes  a  scholar,  that  he  rose  and 
stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  stand,  where 
the  orator,  in  ringing  tones,  introduced  him  as 
**our   distinguished   guest.*'     Then,,  amid   a 


200    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

hush,  partly  of  curiosity,  the  professor  began 
his  speech. 

Up  to  this  time  the  little  girl  had  been  but  a 
mildly  interested  onlooker.  She  was  seated, 
with  the  other  States,  just  behind  the  row  of 
prominent  citizens,  listening  less  to  the  exer- 
cises than  to  the  buzz  about  her,  and  refrain- 
ing from  talking  only  when  the  band  rendered 
a  number.  The  colonel's  son  was  down  in 
front  and  facing  her,  so  she  divided  her  time, 
when  she  was  silent,  between  him  and  her  mo- 
ther. In  the  excitement  of  the  hour  she  had 
totally  forgotten  the  professor. 

But  now,  with  him  at  the  speaker's  table,  she 
suddenly  recalled  the  evening  before,  her  sleep- 
less night,  and  her  worry.  And  she  quaked  as 
she  leaned  forward  to  hear  what  he  was  saying, 
and  bent  her  looks  in  fear  upon  the  colonel's 
son. 

The  professor,  having  bowed  to  all  sides 
and  cleared  his  throat,  launched  into  the  sub- 
ject of  his  discovery,  prefacing  it  with  a  refer- 
ence to  the  camelian  bluff. 

**It  shows  by  the  deposit  on  its  summit,"  he 
said,  *  *  that  at  one  time,  centuries  ago,  a  bound- 
less sea,  that  roared  when  the  winds  swept  by 
or  lapped  and  slept  in  a  calm,  covered  the 
bosom  of  this  prairie.  Beneath  the  arrow- 
heads and  hatchets  that  mark  it  as  a  natural 
watch-tower  of  the  redmen,  lies,  deep-hidden, 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  201 

a  layer  of  sea-shells,  proof  that  this  plain  was 
once  an  ocean  bed/' 

He  paused  a  moment  at  this  point  to  allow 
the  full  significance  of  his  words  to  impress 
itself  upon  the  assemblage  before  him.  Then 
he  continued. 

**But  I  have  discovered  the  proof  of  a  far 
greater  marvel  concerning  this  prairie-land  of 
yours.  A  sea  tumbled  over  it,  as  I  have  said; 
yes,  but,  more  wonderful  still,  in  ages  past— 
I  cannot  say  how  many— a  race,  intellectually 
superior  to  the  Indian,  dwelt  here.  As  borne 
out  by  the  inerasable  markings  I  have  discov- 
ered, this  race  was  undoubtedly  a  branch  or 
part  of  a  people  that  we  have  hitherto  believed 
never  visited  the  continent  until  Columbus's 
time. ' ' 

The  teacher,  the  poet,  and  the  minister 
opened  their  eyes  with  interest  as  his  statement 
fell  upon  their  ears.  But  no  thrill  of  surprise 
swept  the  crowd,  and  the  professor,  after  a 
pause,  coughed  and  went  on. 

*^I  intend  to  submit  my  discovery  to  the  sci- 
entific world.  As  proof  of  it  I  have  two  draw- 
ings which  I  shall  show  you.  They  consist  of 
copies  of  inscriptions  found  by  me  on  the  Ver- 
million.   This  is  one  of  them." 

He  displayed  the  larger  pasteboard  square 
and  a  titter  ran  through  the  crowd.  To  her 
alarm,  the  little  girl  noticed  that  the  colonel's 


202    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

son  did  not  laugh.  Instead,  lie  opened  his 
mouth  and  stared  wildly.  Another  instant  and 
the  square  was  turned  toward  her.  She  gave 
a  cry  when  she  saw  the  figure  drawn  upon  it. 


** Notice,"  said  the  professor,  ^^how  large 
and  Caesarean  is  the  head.  It  is  the  crude  out- 
line of  a  man  whose  arms  are  outstretched  as 
if  in  appeal  to  or  in  adoration  of  some  god. 
The  attitude  is  full  of  dignity  and  strength.  It 
is  unquestionably  an  ancient  graffito.'' 

He  turned  to  the  table  and  lifted  the  second 
square.  **I  have  been  working  for  years  in 
scientific  fields, ' '  he  began  once  more,  ' '  accept- 
ing what  small  honors  came  my  way,  grateful 
that  I  have  been  able  to  name  two  new  species 
of  flowers.  Now,  I  have  chanced  upon  some- 
thing in  the  boundless  stretches  of  the  plains 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  203 

that  promises  reward  as  well  as  fame.  Hereto- 
fore, no  scientific  men,  strictly  speaking,  have 
searched  the  prairies  for  archaeological  traces. 
Hunters,  travelers,  soldiers,  priests,  and  states- 
men have  gone  across,  their  eyes  bent  on  dif- 
ferent phases  of  the  country.  And  so  it  was 
for  me,  an  humble  student,  to  uncover  the  un- 
dreamed-of. ' ' 

He  turned  once  more  to  those  behind  him, 
holding  up  the  second  pasteboard.  The  little 
girl  shrank  in  her  seat  as  the  three  accusing 
letters,  written  large  upon  it,  fell  beneath  her 
apprehensive  gaze: 


y  9 


The  professor  looked  hurriedly  at  his  watch, 
seized  his  hat  and  the  drawings,  and  made  a 
parting  bow.  **I  leave  on  the  coming  train,'' 
he  said  regretfully;  **I  see  that  it  is  now  al- 
most due.  I  promise  you  that  I  shall  return  in 
the  near  future.    Until  then,  farewell. '^ 

The  crowd  parted  respectfully  to  let  him 
pass  as  he  hastened  down  the  steps  of  the 
grand  stand  and  away.    The  little  girl  looked 


204    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

after  him  undecidedly.  Then,  a  quartet  hav- 
ing moved  between  her  and  the  colonePs  son, 
she  cast  aside  the  gilded  rock  and  the  cotton 
batting  and  threaded  the  assemblage  on  the 
run. 

The  two  had  the  short,  dusty  road  to  them- 
selves, and  they  traveled  it  rapidly.  The  pro- 
fessor, with  a  rod's  start,  kept  well  ahead  of 
the  little  girl,  and  came  into  the  depot  on  time, 
his  hat  in  his  hand.  She,  breathless,  arrived 
a  moment  later,  just  as  the  engine  slowed  down. 

The  professor  had  heard  no  one  behind  him, 
for  all  noise  had  been  drowned  by  his  own 
rush.  So,  without  looking  back,  he  sprang  to- 
ward the  last  coach  and  swung  himself  on  by 
the  rail  of  the  farther  steps,  his  drawings  under 
one  arm,  his  hands  encumbered  with  the  box 
and  bag  which  he  had  picked  up  in  the  waiting- 
room.    Suddenly  a  voice  caused  him  to  turn. 

*  *  Prof  essor ! '  *  cried  the  little  girl.  She  was 
puffing  so  hard  that  she  could  not  continue. 

*^ Bless  my  heart!''  said  the  professor,  de- 
scending to  the  lowest  step  and  catching  her 
by  the  hand. 

'  ^  Oh,  professor ! ' '  she  cried  again. 

*^Yes?  Yes?"  he  said  inquiringly.  The 
train  was  starting  and  there  was  no  time  to  be 
lost.    She  ran  beside  it  for  a  few  steps. 

^^I  did  tha£!"  The  little  girl  pointed  at  the 
pasteboard  under  his  arm.    She  fell  back.    The 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  "FIND"  205 

cars  were  moving  rapidly  now,  and  she  was  too 
tired  to  pursue  them. 

**You!^^  gasped  the  professor,  clapping  one 
hand  to  the  drawings;  ''you!'' 

**Well— well— not  me,  but  a  boy,''  she  added 
chokingly. 

The  professor  put  his  hands  to  his  head,  and 
the  squares,  escaping  his  arm,  were  blown  from 
the  steps  and  fluttered  upon  the  graveled  em- 
bankment. The  little  girl  saw  them  fall  and 
ran  forward  to  secure  them.  He  did  not  see 
her.  He  was  sitting  on  the  top  step  of  the  fast- 
receding  tr^in,  his  face  covered  as  if  to  shut 
out  a  fearful  sight,  his  coat-sleeves  pressing 
his  ears  as  if  to  deaden  a  shout  of  ridicule. 

The  little  girl  looked  after  him,  holding  the 
pasteboards  in  her  hands.  *^I  'm  sorry,''  she 
said  out  loud,  * '  that  nobody  made  these  a  long 
time  ago.  But  they  could  n't,  'cause  they  're 
my  'nitials." 

Then  she  walked  back  toward  the  grand 
stand,  where  the  band,  with  small  boys  encir- 
cling it,  was  rendering  the  final  number  of  the 
program,— a  resounding  ** America." 


xni 

A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE 

WHAT  'RE  you  doin'  under  there  r' 
asked  the  biggest  brother,  looking  be- 
neath the  canopied  bed,  where  the  little  girl  was 
lying  on  h^r  back,  her  feet  braced  at  right  an- 
gles to  file  loose  board  slats  above  her. 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  broad  coun- 
terpane of  bright  calico  squares  that,  by  its 
heaving,  had  betrayed  her  presence,  became 
suddenly  still. 

^^ Because,''  continued  the  biggest  brother, 
**I  'm  goin'  to  the  station  this  afternoon  with 
the  blue  mare  and  the  buckboard.  And  if  you 
ain't  doin'  nothing  and  want  to  go  along,  just 
slide  out  and  meet  me  on  the  corn  road." 

He  exchanged  his  gingham  jumper  for  a  coat 
at  the  elk  antlers  in  the  entry,  and  left  the 
house.  When  his  whistle  was  swallowed  up  by 
the  bam,  the  little  girl  crept  stealthily  from  her 
hiding-place,  washed  her  feet,  changed  her 
apron,  and,  under  cover  of  the  kitchen,  hurried 
eastward  to  the  oat-field.  Having  gained  it, 
she  turned  north,  crouching  low  as  she  ran. 

206 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  207 

Haytime  was  over  and  harvest  was  close  at 
hand.  In  the  brief  space  between,  the  reapers 
were  being  put  into  shape  for  the  cutting  of 
the  grain.  That  morning,  while  the  biggest 
and  the  youngest  brothers  were  repairing  the 
broken  rakes  of  a  dropper,  the  eldest  had 
sharpened  the  long  saw-knife,  aided  by  the  lit- 
tle girl,  whom  he  compelled  to  turn  the  squeak- 
ing grindstone.  They  had  begun  early,  work- 
ing under  the  tool-shed,  and  for  hours  the  little 
girl  had  labored  wearily  at  the  winch-handle, 
with  only  an  occasional  rest.  By  eleven  o  'clock 
her  arms  were  so  tired  that  she  could  scarcely 
go  on,  and  she  became  rebellious.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  only  her  fatigue,  but  the  fact  that 
**  David  Copperfield'^  had  arrived  the  day  be- 
fore and  was  awaiting  her  temptingly  in  the 
sitting-room,  that  caused  her,  in  a  cross  though 
not  malicious  moment,  to  give  the  circling  han- 
dle such  a  whirl  that  the  reaper  blade  was 
jerked  violently  forward;  and,  as  it  bounded 
and  sang  against  the  stone,  it  cut  a  gash  in  the 
eldest  brother's  hand. 

The  swallows  nesting  under  the  roof  of  the 
shed  saw  the  little  girl  suddenly  run  toward 
the  house,  followed  by  the  irate  eldest  brother, 
who  carried  a  basin  of  water.  The  two  disap- 
peared into  the  entry,  the  little  girl  leading. 
When  the  eldest  brother  came  out,  still  holding 
the  basin,  he  looked  angry  and  warm.     For, 


208    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

with  all  his  hunting,  she  had  managed  to  escape 
him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  nurse  his  wrath  and 
his  hand  unavenged. 

The  little  girl  had  dived  under  the  canopied 
bed,  where  she  stayed,  holding  her  breath, 
while  the  eldest  brother  looked  for  her  high 
and  low.  When  he  went  out,  calling  the  young- 
est brother  to  take  her  place,  she  yet  remained 
discreetly  hidden.  At  dinner-time  a  plate  of 
food  and  a  glass  of  milk  mysteriously  made 
their  appearance  at  the  edge  of  the  bed,  so  that 
she  was  able  to  stay  in  seclusion  and  wait  for 
the  storm  to  pass.  But  even  **  David  Copper- 
field,  ' '  which  arrived  with  her  meal,  did  not  aid 
her  in  whiling  away  the  hours.  So  the  biggest 
brother's  suggestion  came  as  a  welcome  relief. 

When  the  buckboard  rolled  along  the  corn 
road,  the  little  girl  stepped  out  of  the  field  and 
climbed  to  the  seat  on  the  driver's  side.  Nei- 
ther she  nor  the  biggest  brother  spoke,  but,  as 
the  blue  mare  jogged  on,  she  took  the  reins 
from  him  and  chirruped  gaily  to  the  horse, 
with  an  inward  wish  that,  instead  of  being  in 
the  buckboard,  she  were  free  of  it  and  on  the 
blue  mare's  back.  The  mare  made  poor  prog- 
ress when  she  was  hitched  between  shafts,  since 
she  was  not  a  trotter,  and  reached  her  best  gait 
under  a  blanket.  But  this  was  known  to  the 
little  girl  alone,  for  the  big  brothers  never 
went  faster  than  a  canter,  and  would  have  pun- 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  209 

ished  her  if  they  had  guessed  how  rapidly,  on 
each  trip  to  the  station,  the  horse  was  ridden. 

The  little  girl  usually  started  for  town  in  the 
early  afternoon,  as  the  biggest  brother  had  that 
day.  In  this  way  the  local  passed  her,  going 
east,  when  the  trip  was  half  over.  As  the  en- 
gine came  in  sight,  the  little  girl  urged  the 
mare  to  a  slow  gallop,  and,  as  the  cow-catcher 
got  abreast,  gave  her  a  sharp  cut  that  sent  her 
forward  beside  the  train.  And  so  swift  was  the 
high-strung  horse  that  she  was  never  left  be- 
hind until  a  long  stretch  of  road  had  been  cov- 
ered. The  little  girl  liked  best,  however,  to 
start  the  race  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  broad 
meadow  that  lay  west  of  the  station,  because, 
by  acquiring  speed  before  the  engine  came  on 
a  line  with  her,  she  could  ride  up  to  the  depot 
with  the  rear  car. 

The  almost  daily  brush  with  the  train  was 
seemingly  as  much  enjoyed  by  the  blue  mare 
as  by  her  rider.  With  the  engine 's  roar  in  her 
ears  and  its  smoke  in  her  nostrils,  she  sped  on, 
neck  and  neck  with  the  iron  horse.  When  the 
local  was  still  far  behind  she  would  begin  to 
curvet  and  take  the  bit  between  her  teeth. 
After  the  first  few  contests,  she  needed  no 
whip.  The  little  girl  had  only  to  slacken  the 
reins  and  let  her  go,  and  she  would  scamper 
into  the  station,  covered  with  dust  and  foam 
from  her  flashing  eyes  to  her  flying  feet. 

14 


210    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

While  the  little  girl  was  thinking  over  her 
exciting  rides,  the  biggest  brother  was  mourn- 
fully looking  around  at  the  farm.  The  year 
had  been  a  disastrous  one.  A  chinook  had 
swept  the  prairies  in  the  late  winter,  thawing 
all  the  drifts  except  those  in  sheltered  gullies, 
and  giving  a  false  message  to  the  sleeping 
ground;  so  that,  long  before  their  time,  the 
grass  and  flowers  had  sprung  up,  only  to  be 
cut  down  by  a  heavy  frost  that  was  succeeded 
by  snow.  Again  a  hot  wind  had  come,  and 
again  the  grass  had  sprouted  prematurely  and 
been  blighted.  When  spring  opened,  the  winds 
veered  to  the  south  and  drove  back,  and  what 
green  things  had  survived  the  cold  died  early 
in  a  hot,  blowy  May. 

Lack  of  moisture  had  stunted  the  growing 
crops,  the  sun  had  baked  the  ground  under 
them,  and  every  stem  and  blade  had  been 
scorched.  Where,  in  former  years,  the  oats 
had  nodded  heavy-headed  stood  a  straight, 
scanty  growth.  The  wheat  showed  naked  spots 
on  its  western  side,  the  Vermillion  having  over- 
flowed after  the  sowing  and  lain  so  long  that 
the  seed  rotted  in  the  wet.  The  flax  stems 
turned  up  their  blue  faces  and  shriveled  into 
a  thin  cover  on  the  sod.  And  in  the  corn- 
field, that  promised  nubbins  instead  of  the 
usual  husking,  there  shone  too  soon  a  glimmer 
of  gold. 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  211 

Around  the  fields  the  brittle  grass  sloped 
down  to  the  shrinking  sloughs,  where  the  musk- 
rat  houses  stood  high  and  dry,  stranded  on  the 
cracked  swamp-beds  like  beached  boats.  The 
river,  for  weeks  a  wide-spread,  muddy  stream, 
was  now  but  a  chain  of  trickling  pools. 
Drought  was  abroad  with  its  burning  hand, 
and  the  landscape  lay  bared  and  brown. 

But  frost,  sun,  and  winds  had  not  been  the 
only  scourges.  Potato-bugs  had  settled  upon 
the  long  patch  that  was  bordered  by  the  res- 
ervation road.  The  youngest  brother  had 
painted  the  riddled  vines  green  with  poison, 
and  the  little  girl  had  gone  along  the  rows  with 
a  stick,  knocking  thousands  of  the  pests  into  an 
oyster-can;  but  their  labor  had  been  in  vain. 
Cutworms  had  destroyed  the  melons ;  cabbage- 
lice  and  squash-bugs  had  besieged  the  garden, 
attended  by  caterpillars;  and  grasshoppers 
by  the  millions  had  hopped  across  the  farm, 
devouring  as  they  went  and  leaving  disaster 
behind  them. 

The  hot  wind  that  bent  the  stunted  grass  be- 
side the  road  reminded  the  biggest  brother  of 
every  catastrophe  of  the  year,  and  he  cried  out 
angrily  to  it.  **0h,  blow!  blow!  blow!''  he 
scolded,  and,  reaching  over,  gave  the  blue  mare 
a  slap  with  the  reins  to  relieve  his  feelings.  It 
started  her  into  a  smart  trot,  and  she  soon 
topped  the  ridge  along  which  the  track  ran. 


212    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Then  the  little  girl  headed  her  toward  the 
station. 

'  ^  It  only  needs  a  fire  to  finish  the  whole  thing 
iip/^  went  on  the  biggest  brother,  ruefully  ey- 
ing the  prairie.  ^^The  country  *s  as  dry  as 
tinder.  And  our  place  ain't  plowed  around 
half  well  enough.  If  a  blaze  should  happen  to 
come  down  on  us''— he  shook  his  head  gravely. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  words,  there  came 
from  behind  them  a  gust  of  hot  air  that  carried 
with  it  the  smell  of  burning  grass.  He  faced  to 
the  rear  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm  and, 
shading  his  face,  peered  back  along  the  rails. 
** Catch  that?"  he  asked  excitedly.  ** There  is 
a  fire  somewheres;  it  's  behind  us.  And  the 
wind  's  in  the  west!" 

The  little  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  buck- 
board  still  going,  and  also  looked  behind. 
*^Why,  I  can  see  smoke,"  she  said.  She 
pointed  to  where  a  dark  haze,  like  shattered 
thunder-clouds,  was  rising  from  the  sky-line. 

**It  's  been  set  by  that  confounded  engine," 
declared  the  biggest  brother.  He  seized  the 
reins  and  brought  the  blue  mare  to  a  stop. 

The  little  girl  stood  upon  the  seat,  holding 
his  hand  to  steady  herself.  ^* Don't  you  think 
we  'd  better  drive  home?"  she  questioned  anx- 
iously. 

**Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  ** Seems 
to  me  like  the  smoke  's  gettin'  thicker  awful 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  213 

fast.  We  don^t  notice  it  much  because  the 
sun  's  so  bright.  But  it  ain^t  more  ^n  eight 
or  ten  miles  away,  and  comin'  like  sixty.  It 
could  make  the  farm  ahead  of  us.  We  '11  just 
get  on  to  the  back-fire  at  the  station  and  keep 
from  gettin*  singed. '' 

They  sat  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  the  big- 
gest brother  turned  about  and  clucked  to  the 
blue  mare.  But  the  little  girl  continued  to 
squint  against  the  sun  until,  in  descending  into 
a  draw,  the  black  haze  behind  was  lost  to  view. 

The  biggest  brother  kept  the  blue  mare  at  a 
good  gait,  and  the  road,  with  its  narrow  strip 
of  weedy  grass  down  the  center,  flew  by  under 
the  bouncing  buckboard.  Soon  the  long,  grad- 
ual incline  leading  up  from  the  ravine  was 
climbed.  At  its  top,  on  a  high  bench,  the 
horse  halted  for  breath.  Both  the  biggest  bro- 
ther and  the  little  girl  at  once  rose  to  their 
feet.    As  they  did  so,  they  uttered  a  cry. 

A  moving  wall  of  animals,  that  stretched  far 
to  north  and  south,  was  heading  swiftly  toward 
them  from  beyond  the  river  bluffs.  They  could 
hear  the  sound  of  thousands  of  hoofs,  like  the 
ceaseless  roll  of  dulled  drums,  and  across  the 
black  level  of  the  wall  they  saw  a  bank  of 
smoke,  into  which  leaped  tongues  of  flame. 

Without  losing  a  second,  the  biggest  brother 
began  to  urge  on  the  blue  mare.  The  black- 
snake  was  missing  from  its  place  in  the  buck- 


214    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

board.  So  he  used  the  ends  of  the  reins.  He 
saw  that  the  wind,  which  had  been  brisk  all 
day,  was  now  redoubled  in  strength,  increased 
by  another  that  found  its  source  in  the  advanc- 
ing fire.  He  wondered  if  he  had  not  better  un- 
hitch and  let  the  horse  carry  them  both,  aban- 
doning the  buckboard  to  its  fate  on  the  road. 
Yet  he  feared  to  lose  any  time,  and,  reflecting 
that  perhaps  the  spirited  creature  would  refuse 
to  ride  double,  he  decided  to  hurry  on  without 
making  the  change.  As  the  mare  responded  to 
the  rein  ends,  something  like  a  prayer  moved 
his  dry,  firm-set  lips.  For  he  knew  that  they 
were  menaced  not  only  by  a  conflagration,  but 
by  a  mad  stampede. 

**The  local  '11  be  along  in  about  half  an 
hour,''  said  the  little  girl,  speaking  for  the  first 
time  since  their  dread  discovery.  *^Do  you 
think  the  fire  '11  hurt  it?" 

The  biggest  brother  laughed  uneasily. 
**No,"  he  replied,  *4t  '11  go  right  through  the 
fire;  but  the  cattle  '11  pitch  it  off  the  track  if 
they  get  in  front  of  it. ' ' 

The  little  girl  faced  around  to  watch  the  on- 
coming rout,  and  the  biggest  brother  renewed 
his  thrashing  of  the  blue  mare.  But  he  was 
not  satisfied  with  the  horse's  speed.  She  was 
acting  strangely,  wavering  from  side  to  side  as 
if  she  were  anxious  to  turn,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  her  head  high  and  whinnying  ner- 
vously. 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  215 

^^You  know  what  's  cominV'  the  biggest 
brother  said  to  her  between  his  teeth;  *^and 
you  'd  go  back  if  I  'd  let  you. ' ' 

The  little  girl  called  his  attention  from  the 
mare  with  a  shout.  He  turned  to  look  in  the 
direction  of  her  shaking  finger.  What  he  saw 
blanched  his  dripping  face.  From  a  point  on 
the  prairie  where  he  knew  the  farm-house 
stood  were  ascending  several  dense,  black 
funnels ! 

The  line  of  flying  animals  had  now  crossed 
the  farm.  The  blaze  seemed  to  be  at  the  very 
flanks  of  the  herd,  licking  up  the  dry  weeds  and 
grass  from  under  their  speeding  feet.  The  big- 
gest brother  groaned  as  his  eye  swept  the  on- 
coming panic.  He  forgot  for  a  moment  the 
danger  to  those  at  home  and  the  terrible  loss 
that,  doubtless,  had  been  visited  upon  them, 
in  the  thought  of  the  impending  fate  of  himself 
and  the  little  girl.  **They  ^11  be  plump  on  us 
in  no  time,''  he  muttered,  and,  kneeling  at  the 
dashboard,  he  renewed  his  beating. 

A  bare  three  miles  ahead  lay  the  meadow 
beyond  which  was  the  town  and  safety.  The 
thundering  host  behind,  at  the  rate  it  was  com- 
ing, would  catch  them  while  they  were  crossing 
the  wide  basin,  where  the  dropseed-grass  and 
blue- joint  were  higher  than  the  wild  hay  on 
the  prairie  about.  There  the  herd  would  have 
to  increase  its  running  to  escape  the  swifter- 


216    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

going  fire;  hence,  there  lay  the  greatest  peril 
to  the  biggest  brother  and  the  little  girl. 

In  a  few  moments  the  animals  heading  the 
rout  were  out  of  sight  in  the  draw  crossed  a 
little  while  before  by  the  buckboard.  The  fire 
followed  them,  creeping  slowly  down  the  far- 
ther hillside,  where  the  growth  was  poor;  but 
when  it,  as  well  as  the  stock,  disappeared  in  the 
bottom,  where  the  grass  stood  thick  and  tall, 
the  narrow  ravine  top  vomited  smoke  and  flame 
like  the  mouth  of  a  crater. 

In  a  terribly  short  space  the  stampede  rushed 
up  the  bench  and  came  on,  a  dense  mass,  horn- 
ing and  shouldering  wildly.  It  was  soon  so 
close  that  the  horses  could  be  distinguished 
from  the  cattle.  Then  it  gained  on  the  buck- 
board  to  such  an  extent  that  the  little  girl  could 
make  out,  through  the  smoke  and  dust  that 
whirled  before  it,  animals  that  she  knew.  But 
they  were  changed.  Was  that  old  Kate,  the 
cultivator  mare,  with  bulging  eyes  and  lolling 
tongue?  Or  young  Liney,  the  favorite  daugh- 
ter of  a  well-loved  mother,  whose  horns  cut  the 
grass  as  she  fled?  Or  Napoleon *s  dusky  son, 
Dan,  near  the  rails?  Even  above  the  sound  of 
their  feet  and  the  roar  of  the  fire,  she  could 
hear  them  bawling  from  weariness  and  fear  as 
they  charged  ruthlessly  on  toward  the  buck- 
board. 

The  blue  mare  was  failing  in  her  stride  and 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  217 

acting  more  obstinately  than  ever.  Now  to  the 
right,  ^  now  to  the  left,  she  turned,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  the  biggest  brother  kept  her 
in  the  road.  She  answered  every  blow  on  her 
lathered  hindquarters  with  an  angry  hump. 
The  biggest  brother,  as  he  pounded  her  merci- 
lessly, felt  that  escape  was  impossible. 

Beside  him,  quiet  and  brave,  sat  the  little 
girl.  A  spot  of  scarlet  showed  on  either  cheek, 
her  eyes  were  alight,  her  figure  tense.  If  she 
felt  any  terror,  she  did  not  show  it.  She  knew 
how  rapidly  the  blue  mare  could  travel,  and 
she  trusted  her  pet  to  bring  them  to  safety. 

As  the  buckboard  struck  the  meadow  road, 
the  biggest  brother  gave  a  hurried  glance  over 
his  shoulder  to  see  how  far  behind  was  the 
herd.  **  Never  saw  so  many  animals  all  to- 
gether in  my  life, ' '  he  said.  *  *  They  ^11  kill  us 
sure  if  they  catch  us.  And  that  fire  's  drivin' 
'em  at  an  awful  clip.    My  God!'' 

The  cry  burst  from  him  in  dismay  as  a  huge, 
burning  tumbleweed,  as  high  as  a  wagon- wheel 
and  as  round,  rolled  through  a  gap  in  the  stam- 
pede and  whirled  past  them,  lighting  the  grass 
as  it  sped.  A  second  and  a  third  followed. 
Soon  a  dozen  brands  had  shot  forward,  herald- 
ing the  crackling  fiend  behind.  The  blue  mare 
shied  wildly  when  the  weeds  came  close,  and 
each  time  the  buckboard  almost  capsized.  She 
was  lagging  more  than  ever,  as  if  waiting  for 


218    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  animals  that  were  scarcely  a  half  mile 
away. 

There  was  fire  all  around  now,  and  smoke 
and  cinders  floated  over  the  biggest  brother 
and  the  little  girl,  choking  them  and  shutting 
out  the  road  ahead.  The  wind,  as  it  brushed 
by,  seemed  to  sear  their  faces  with  its  torrid 
breath.  Suddenly,  the  dust  and  smoke  clearing 
to  the  right,  the  little  girl  clutched  the  biggest 
brother's  arm  and  pointed  out  a  dark,  bulky 
creature  that  was  in  the  lead.  It  was  a  bison, 
evidently  one  of  those  lonely  bachelors  that, 
exiled  from  their  kind,  were  the  first  hermits 
of  the  plains.  His  bushy  head  was  lowered 
and  his  beard  swept  the  ground.  The  biggest 
brother  and  the  little  girl  could  see  his  naked 
body  gleam  and  quiver  as  he  was  crowded  for- 
ward by  a  band  of  antelope.  He  galloped 
blindly,  as  if  he  was  failing  in  strength.  Even 
as  they  looked  he  tumbled  to  his  knees  and  let 
the  antelope  pass  over  him,  meeting  an  ignoble 
death  beneath  a  hundred  sharp  hoofs  and  in 
the  embrace  of  the  fire. 

The  biggest  brother's  attention  was  given  to 
the  bison  only  an  instant.  For  a  long-horned 
steer  collided  with  a  hind  wheel  and  a  horse 
came  dashing  against  the  blue  mare.  He 
guided  the  buckboard  nearer  the  rails  to  avoid 
the  horse  and  reached  round  to  hammer  with 
his  hat  the  steer's  nose,  which  was  thrust  al- 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  219 

most  against  the  seat.  **They  '11  trample  us, 
they  '11  trample  us ! "  he  cried,  and  he  seized  the 
little  girl  about  the  shoulders  and  thrust  her  in 
front  of  him.  *  ^  Drive, ' '  he  commanded.  Then  he 
climbed  back  over  the  seat  and  furiously  kicked 
out  at  the  animals  lunging  upon  the  buckboard. 

But  he  could  as  easily  have  stopped  the  pur- 
suing fire,  which  was  in  the  meadow  and  was 
house  high ;  for,  with  those  in  the  rear  pressing 
them  on  at  every  bound,  the  leaders  could  not 
slacken  their  course.  He  saw  that  there  was 
but  one  thing  to  be  done :  increase  the  speed  be- 
fore the  buckboard  was  run  down.  *^0h,  why 
did  n't  I  unhitch?"  he  cried  miserably  as  he 
climbed  back  to  the  little  girl's  side. 

Forgetful  of  danger,  she  was  whipping  the 
blue  mare  with  all  her  strength.  The  mare  was 
traveling  as  fast  as  the  herd  now,  and  the  sta- 
tion was  in  sight  despite  the  drifting  dust  and 
smoke.  Before  it  lay  the  black  stretch  at  which 
the  fire  must  stop,  and  on  which,  if  the  blue 
mare  could  be  brought  to  a  standstill  behind  a 
building  or  a  waiting  car,  there  was  succor 
from  death.  Yet  hope— with  the  herd  upon 
them  and  the  fire  closer,  hotter,  and  deadlier— 
was  almost  gone.  The  biggest  brother,  in  a 
very  final  frenzy  of  desperation,  joined  his  ef- 
forts to  those  of  the  little  girl,  and  pounded 
the  blue  mare  and  the  crowding  stock  repeat- 
edly with  his  naked  fistSr 


220    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

But  suddenly  another  phase  entered  into 
that  run  for  life.  The  roar  behind  them  be- 
came louder,  swelled  to  deafening,  surged  to 
their  ears  like  a  long,  deep  boom  of  thunder. 
And  then,  with  a  shriek  that  seemed  to  divide 
the  smoke  and  dust,  the  local  plunged  through 
the  cloud  across  her  track  and  came  even  with 
the  blue  mare's  muzzle. 

In  that  moment,  worn  with  her  five  miles' 
gallop,  it  was  the  only  thing  that  could  have 
spurred  her  on.  Her  eyes  were  bulging  from 
lack  of  breath.  Her  sides,  streaked  with  blood, 
no  longer  responded  to  the  scourge  of  the  rein 
ends.  But,  with  the  engine  abreast,  the  desire 
to  worst  it,  long  nurtured  by  the  little  girl,  set 
her  into  a  wilder  pace.  With  a  snort,  she  gath- 
ered herself  together. 

The  buckboard,  tossing  from  side  to  side  on 
the  uneven  meadow,  gained  instantly  on  the 
herd  and  passed  to  the  front  once  more.  The 
engine  had  distanced  it,  yet  the  blue  mare  did 
not  slacken.  The  biggest  brother  and  the  lit- 
tle girl,  torn  between  hope  and  fear,  yelled 
at  her  encouragingly.  Breathing  heavily,  she 
strained  every  muscle  to  obey. 

Another  moment  and  the  engine  was  on  the 
burnt  strip;  another,  and  the  last  car  reached 
it;  a  third,  and  the  blue  mare's  feet  struck  it, 
and  she  scurried  into  the  lee  of  the  depot  to 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  221 

let  the  animals  behind  her  divide  and  charge 
by  through  the  town. 

•,  J 

The  biggest  brother,  as  soon  as  the  bine  mare 
had  been  tenderly  cared  for,  hired  a  livery 
horse  and  started  homeward.  The  little  girl 
accompanied  him,  her  face,  like  his,^  still 
streaked  with  dust  and  cinders.  Neither  spoke 
as  the  bare,  smutty  meadow  was  crossed.  They 
only  looked  ahead  to  where  smoke  was  rising 
slowly,  ten  miles  away  to  the  west.  They  were 
spent  with  excitement,  but  their  thoughts  were 
on  their  mother  and  brothers,  the  house  sur- 
rounded by  a  straw-strewn  yard,  the  line  of 
stacks  behind  the  bam,  the  board  granaries, 
the  fields  dry  and  ready  for  the  match. 

As  they  drove  rapidly  along  through  the 
sunlight,  over  the  land  just  scored  and  torn  up 
by  the  stampede,  they  passed  dead  and  injured 
animals  that,  weaker  than  the  others,  had  fallen 
and  been  trampled  and  burned.  Few  horses 
and  cattle  had  suffered,  but,  beginning  at  the 
draw,  the  sheep  were  pitifully  plentiful. 
Everywhere  smoke  floated  up  in  tiny  threads 
from  smoldering  buffalo-chips,  and  clumps  of 
weeds  burned  damply,  only  now  and  then 
bursting  into  flame. 

At  last,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  the  biggest  bro- 
ther made  out  the  farm-house;  with  an  un- 


222    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

happy  cry  lie  announced  the  burning  of  the 
stacks.  And  when  the  buckboard  came  still 
nearer,  they  could  see  that  the  granaries  were 
gone,  and  that  all  the  sod  buildings  were  roof- 
less and  open  to  the  blurred  sky,  while  on 
every  side— the  corn-field  alone  breaking  the 
vista— lay  the  blackened  fields. 

When  they  drove  up,  their  mother  tottered 
to  meet  them,  and  waved  one  hand  heart- 
brokenly  toward  the  kitchen  door,  where  the 
eldest  and  the  youngest  brothers,  exhausted 
with  fighting  fire,  their  faces  grimy,  their 
clothing  burned  to  tatters,  sat  weeping. 
**It  could  n't  have  been  much  worse,''  she 
sobbed,  as  the  biggest  brother  took  her  in  his 
arms. 

The  little  girl  tumbled  from  the  buckboard 
and,  forgetting  their  quarrel  of  the  morning, 
threw  her  arms  around  the  eldest  brother's 
neck.  He  bowed  his  head  against  her  apron, 
and  there  was  a  long  silence,  interrupted  only 
by  sounds  of  mourning.  Then  the  biggest  bro- 
ther spoke.  *' Mother,"  he  said,  patting  her 
shoulder  softly,  ''we  've  got  the  house  and  the 
farm  left,  remember.  We  've  got  one  another, 
too."  He  paused  a  moment.  Before  he  spoke 
again  he  gave  a  little  laugh,  and  all  looked  up 
at  him  in  surprise.  ''What  's  more,"  he  went 
on,  "where  's  the  caterpillars  and  cucumber- 
bugs,  and  the  potato-bugs  and  cabbage  lice? 


A  RACE  AND  A  RESCUE  223 

Burned  up,  slicker  'n  a  whistle.  And  mo- 
ther, '  *  he  persisted,  holding  up  her  tear-stained 
face  smilingly,  *^have  you  happened  to  con- 
sider that  there  ain't  a  blamed  grasshopper  in 
a  hundred  miles  1  * ' 


XIV 
HARD  TIMES 

THE  first  deep  snow  of  the  winter,  drop- 
ping gently  from  a  wide,  dun  sky,  rested 
in  white  folds  on  the  new  straw  roofs  of  the  sod 
buildings,  crested  the  low  stacks  that  had  been 
hauled  from  distant  meadows  not  swept  by  the 
fire,  covered  the  cinder-strewn  gaps  in  the  yard 
where  the  granaries  had  stood,  and  hid  under 
a  shining,  jeweled  pall  the  stripped  fields  and 
the  somber  prairie.  The  little  girl's  mother, 
stringing  pop-corn  in  the  kitchen  for  the  Christ- 
mas tree  at  the  school-house,  looked  out  toward 
noon  to  see  the  farm  restored,  as  if  by  en- 
chantment, to  the  aspect  of  other  and  happier 
winters;  and  sorrowfully  welcomed  the  wind- 
ing-sheet that  gave  promise  of  the  coming  res- 
urrection, when  the  grass  and  flowers  should 
rise  again  from  out  the  naked,  charred  ground, 
bright  and  glorious  with  the  fresh-bom  spring. 
It  had  seemed  to  her,  ever  since  the  terrible 
holocaust  of  a  few  months  before,  as  if  the  Bad 
Lands  had  moved  eastward  upon  them.    Yet, 

224 


HARD  TIMES  225 

however  sad  was  the  sight  of  their  loss  and 
the  sense  of  their  privation,  she  counseled 
against  selling  out  at  a  small  figure  and  mov- 
ing to  some  State  where  prairie  fires  were  un- 
known, and  bravely  determined  to  stay  and 
fight  back  to  rough  comfort  and  plenty. 

**The  snow  will  help  us  to  forget, '^  she  said 
to  the  biggest  brother,  as  she  took  a  hot, 
crammed  popper  from  him  and  emptied  it  into 
a  milk-pan.  He  nodded  in  reply,  and  sprinkled 
the  popper  with  kernels  again,  and  she  went 
back  to  her  bench,  carrying  the  pan  under  one 
^rm.  They  sat  without  speaking,  the  click  of 
the  needle  and  the  snapping  of  the  corn  alone 
breaking  the  quiet.  When  another  popper  was 
ready  to  be  turned  out,  the  biggest  brother 
went  into  the  adjoining  shed  with  a  wooden 
bucket  and  shoveled  it  full  of  coal  from  the 
ever-lessening  pile  that  had  been  purchased, 
like  the  seed  for  the  coming  planting,  on  the 
promise  of  the  next  year's  crop. 

As  he  returned,  bending  under  the  weight  of 
the  bucket,  the  door  into  the  entry  was  shoved 
slowly  open  and  the  little  girl  entered.  She 
walked  forward  to  lay  her  mittens  on  the  table 
before  she  brushed  the  snow  from  her  shoul- 
ders and  leggings  and  untwisted  and  shook  out 
her  nubia.  Her  woolen  cap  was  pulled  far 
down  over  her  ears,  and  her  mother,  as  she 
watched  her,  did  not  see  the  grave  eyes  and 

15 


226    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

pensive  face  until  the  little  girl  halted  beside 
the  biggest  brother's  chair  to  warm  her  hands 
at  a  stove-hole. 

*^How  's  the  treeT'  asked  the  biggest  bro- 
ther, putting  down  the  bucket  and  depositing 
one  small  lump  on  the  dying  coals. 

*^It  's  setting  in  a  chum,''  replied  the  little 
girl,  without  looking  up. 

**Is  it  trimmed?"  said  her  mother. 

The  little  girl  acquiesced.  **It  's  all  ready- 
to  light." 

^SS'pose  those  Dutchman's  young  ones 
brought  some  things  over  to  put  on, ' '  ventured 
the  biggest  brother,  shaking  the  popper  vio- 
lently to  hide  his  concern. 

The  little  girl  sighed  heavily.  *^  Every- 
body 's  sent  presents  but  the  Swedes  and  us," 
she  said,  and  there  was  a  telltale  break  in  her 
voice. 

**The  Swedes  and  us  won't  have  much  on," 
declared  the  biggest  brother,  dryly.  *  *  That  fire 
scooped  up  our  Christmas  gifts.  The  only  peo- 
ple around  here  that  can  make  presents  this 
year  were  smart  enough  to  backfire."  He 
gave  the  popper  such  a  shake  that  the  lid 
swung  up  and  let  a  shower  of  kernels  fall  over 
the  stove. 

*^The  Dutch  girls  said  this  morning,"  began 
the  little  girl,  ' '  that  their  new  house  is  better  'n 
ours.    x\nd  they  said  that  every  one  of  'em  is 


HARD  TIMES  227 

going  to  have  two  presents  off  the  tree  to- 
night. And— and— I  know  it  's  true,  too,  be- 
cause I  saw  the  teacher  write  their  names 
on  the  packages/'  She  paused  a  moment. 
* '  They  're  all  big  packages, ' '  she  added  mourn- 
fully. 

^^I  am  glad,"  said  her  mother,  *Hhat  some 
one  is  to  receive  presents  to-night,  even  if  we 
do  not.'' 

**And  where  you  We  goin'  to  shine,"  broke 
in  the  biggest  brother,  giving  the  little  girl  a 
squeeze,  ^  ^  is  in  the  program.  You  '11  play  that 
new  tune  you  learned  on  the  fiddle,  and  you  '11 
speak  your  piece;  and  they  '11  all  be  as  jeal- 
ous as  kingdom  come.  As  for  presents,  well, 
you  've  been  gettin'  'em  straight  for  ten  years; 
so  you  c'n  afford  to  skip  the  eleventh."  He 
got  up  to  empty  the  popper  in  the  pan. 

The  little  girl  did  not  reply  at  once.  "When 
she  burst  forth  at  last,  her  eyes  were  full  and 
her  breast  was  heaving.  *  *  It  's  our  first  school 
tree,"  she  cried;  *^and  here  I  '11  be  the  only 
girl  that  won't  have  her  name  called,  except 
for  an  old  orange  or  a  bag  of  candy."  Then 
she  hurriedly  left  the  kitchen. 

*  *  Poor  baby ! ' '  said  her  mother  when  she  was 
gone.  She  disposed  of  the  stringing  of  the 
pop-corn  to  the  biggest  brother  and  began  to 
pick  over  a  quart  of  wheat  that  was  to  be  their 
supper.    Having  finished  and  put  it  on  to  boil. 


228    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

she  turned  to  the  roasting  of  some  barley  for 
the  next  morning's  coffee. 

**I  wish  we  'd  a-got  her  a  little  trinket  for 
to-night/'  said  the  biggest  brother,  **even  if 
it  'd  a-been  only  worth  ten  cents.''  He  took 
out  his  pipe  and  filled  it  from  a  handful  of 
corn-silk  in  his  jumper  pocket.  *  *  Z  *dhe  tickled 
to  death,"  he  added,  *4f  I  could  have  a  plug 
of  tobacco." 

**And  I  a  sack  of  flour,"  said  his  mother. 
**We  '11  have  the  last  in  biscuits  for  to-day's 
dinner.  I  suppose  I  should  n't  have  used  it  up 
for  a  week  more,  because  we  had  white  biscuits 
only  last  Sunday.  But  it  is  Christmas  day;  I 
can't  resist  giving  you  boys  something  a  little 
extra.  I  've  kept  enough  flour  out,  though,  to 
thicken  gravies  with.  Now,  if  we  only  had 
plenty  of  potatoes. ' ' 

*^When  it  gets  nearer  spring,  we  c'n  eat  the 
inside  of  the  potatoes  and  save  the  peelin's  for 
plantin'." 

**0h,  I  thought  of  that  long  ago,"  laughed 
his  mother;  **I  've  got  half  a  sack  of  peel- 
ings here  behind  the  stove  where  they  won't 
freeze. ' ' 

*^The  meat  's  gettin'  low,  ma.  There  's  only 
a  hunk  or  two  left  in  the  barrel,  and  I  just  no- 
ticed, when  I  was  gettin'  the  coal,  that  that  pig 
in  there  on  the  rafters  is  dwindlin'  fast.  I 
guess  another  cow  '11  have  to  go.    Might  as 


HARD  TIMES  229 

« 

well,  anyway.  Hay  won't  more  'n  last  the 
horses. ' ' 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  eldest  and  the 
youngest  brothers,  who  came  in,  stamping  the 
snow  from  their  boots  and  swinging  their  arms. 

*  ^  Gee !  its  cold ! ' '  cried  the  youngest,  keeping 
in  a  far  comer,  out  of  way  of  the  warmth  from 
the  stove,  and  thumping  his  toes  alternately  as 
he  moved  in  a  circle.  **  Sloughs  are  frozen  to 
tlie  bottom.  Did  n't  catch  a  thing,  and  had  to 
use  the  ax  to  chop  out  the  traps  every  place 
we  'd  set." 

Dinner  was  eaten  in  silence  that  Christmas 
day.  The  family  could  not  help  contrasting 
the  meal  with  those  served  on  former  like  oc- 
casions. Since  nearly  all  the  turkeys  and 
chickens  had  perished  in  the  fire,  and  what  few 
remained  were  being  kept  over  for  the  follow- 
ing year,  no  plump  fowl  lay,  shins  in  air,  be- 
fore the  eldest  brother.  A  small  piece  of  baked 
pork  held  the  place  of  honor,  surrounded  by 
the  never-absent  dish  of  boiled  wheat,  the  plate 
of  precious  white  biscuits,  and  some  sweetened 
corn-bread.  When  dinner  was  over,  the  big 
brothers  tramped  off  to  the  chain  of  sloughs, 
taking  with  them  the  violin  and  the  corn  their 
mother  had  strung  so  that  the  latter  could  be 
put  on  the  tree  that  afternoon.  The  little  girl 
and  her  mother  cleared  the  table  and  then  sat 
down  to  unravel  some  old  wristlets  and  from 


230    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

them  knit  new  heels  and  toes  into  the  big  bro- 
thers'  stockings. 

The  little  girl  was  very  quiet  and  thoughtful. 
Her  mouth  drooped  mournfully,  her  eyes  were 
wistful.  She  spoke  to  her  mother  only  in  an- 
swer, and  then  in  monosyllables.  Her  mother, 
as  she  watched  her,  felt  that  the  little  girl 's  un- 
happiness  was  the  last  bitter  touch  to  her  own 
grief,  and  she  was  glad  when  the  child  put  on 
her  dried  leggings,  her  cap  and  coat,  prepara- 
tory to  spending  an  hour  in  her  own  room, 
where  there  was  no  fire. 

The  mother  heard  no  sound  from  the  other 
part  of  the  house  until  the  middle  of  the  short 
afternoon.  Then  she  caught  the  notes  of  a 
song.  A  moment  later  the  little  girl  came  run- 
ning into  the  kitchen,  her  eyes  dancing,  and 
went  running  out  again,  carrying  a  sheet  of 
brown  wrapping-paper  and  a  long  piece  of 
white  string.  No  more  sounds  came  from  her 
room.  When  she  came  out  at  suppertime, 
dressed  for  the  evening's  entertainment,  she 
was  her  usual  cheerful  self,  much  to  the  mys- 
tification of  her  compassionate  mother  and  the 
big  brothers. 

There  was  a  false  ring  of  gladness  in  the 
sleigh-bells  that  night  as  they  came  jingling 
from  the  stable.  For  what  right  have  sleigh- 
bells  to  ring  when  every  pocket  is  flat  and  when 
there  is  no  lumpy  flour-sack  hidden  from  sight 


HARD  TIMES  231 

under  the  hay  in  the  pung  bottom  ?  So  the  eld- 
est and  the  youngest  brothers,  their  mother  and 
the  little  girl,  took  their  places  in  the  low  box 
and  let  the  biggest  brother  cover  them  with  a 
feather-tick,  without  any  of  the  gay  laughter 
and  banter  that  marked  the  pleasure-rides  of 
former  years.  Then  the  biggest  brother,  only 
his  eyes  showing  from  his  head-wrappings, 
sprang  to  his  seat  behind  the  horses  and  sent 
the  team  briskly  forward  with  the  storm  to- 
ward the  huge  bonfire  of  cottonwood  logs  that 
had  been  lighted  close  to  the  school-house  on 
the  farther  edge  of  the  farthest  slough. 

When  the  reservation  road,  hidden  under 
four  feet  of  packed  snow,  was  crossed,  the  pung 
slid  down  to  the  carpeted  ice  of  the  first  slough 
in  the  train  of  the  capering  horses,  and  was 
whisked  through  the  crisp  night  toward  the 
distant  beacon.  So  swiftly  did  it  scud  that,  be- 
fore the  quartet  behind  realized  it,  the  horses 
had  pressed  up  the  hill  beside  the  burning  cot- 
tonwoods  and  halted  before  the  school-house. 

The  little  girl  was  the  first  to  scramble  from 
the  snug  box  when  the  tick  was  lifted.  Still 
wearing  a  big  buffalo  coat  that  enveloped  her 
from  head  to  foot,  she  squirmed  through  the 
door,  about  which  was  a  crowd,  and  threaded 
her  way  past  the  high  desk  that  daily  secluded 
her  while  she  ate  her  poor  lunches,  past  the  hot 
stove  with  its  circle  of  new-comers,  to  where, 


232    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

hidden  by  the  chart,  stood  the  teacher.  There 
she  held  a  moment's  whispered  conversation, 
produced  a  package  from  under  her  greatcoat, 
and  then  joined  the  other  children,  who  were 
seated  up  in  front  on  boards  placed  across  the 
main  aisle. 

The  little  building,  that  had  been  saved  in 
the  prairie  fire  by  the  well-trodden  oval  around 
it,  was  crowded  with  the  people  of  the  district, 
assembled  to  enjoy  their  first  public  entertain- 
ment and  tree.  Among  the  younger  ones 
were  the  Dutchman's  girls  and  their  baby 
nephew,  the  neighbor  woman's  children, 
*  *  Frenchy  's ' '  brother,  and  the  Swede  boy.  On 
either  hand  and  behind  were  the  grown  peo- 
ple,—the  Dutchman  and  his  wife,  the  young 
couple  from  the  West  Fork,  the  cattleman, 
'* Frenchy,"  the  Swede,  and  the  big  brothers 
and  their  mother.  When  the  family  entered, 
the  room  was  so  full  that  the  eldest  and  the 
youngest  brothers  had  to  content  themselves 
with  a  perch  on  the  coal-bins.  The  little  girl, 
turning  to  survey  the  room,  could  not  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  biggest  brother,  however,  and 
finally  concluded  that  he  was  still  busy  with 
blanketing  the  horses  and  putting  them  away 
in  the  long  shed. 

The  tree  was  ablaze  from  its  top  to  the  rim 
of  the  cloth-wound  churn,  and  was  hung  with 
tinsel  trimmings   from  the   farm-house,— the 


HARD  TIMES  233 

selfsame  trimmings  that  for  years  had  twinkled 
and  winked  at  the  little  girl  each  Christmas 
eve.  Among  the  tinsel  was  festooned  the  pop- 
corn, while  from  every  bending  branch  and 
stem  hung  apples  and  oranges  supplied  by  the 
teacher,  colored  bags  of  candy  and  bright 
cornucopias  given  by  the  cattleman,  sorghum 
taffies-on-a-stick  made  by  the  neighbor  woman, 
while  eggs,  colored  in  gaudy  and  grotesque  pat- 
terns by  boiling  them  in  pieces  of  calico,  were 
suspended  in  tiny  cunning  willow  baskets  that 
testified  to  the  nimble  fingers  of  the  Dutch- 
man's wife.  Around  the  base  of  the  churn  and 
heaped  high  against  it  was  the  pile  of  gifts. 

The  program  opened  immediately  after  the 
arrival  of  the  family.  The  teacher,  keeping 
one  eye  upon  the  fast  burning  and  unstable 
candles  above  her,  came  forward  to  the  edge 
of  the  platform  to  say  a  few  words  of  greeting. 
The  children  then  gave  a  rousing  Yule  chorus, 
the  laden  boughs  over  them  waving  gently  in 
time  with  their  voices.  The  little  girl  and  her 
violin  followed,  and  the  tree  was  as  still  as 
those  who  sat  before  it  while  the  strains  of  *M 
Dreamt  I  Dwelt  in  Marble  Halls ' '  floated  trem- 
blingly out  from  under  her  uncertain  bow.  A 
new  settler's  four-year-old  lisped  ^*Six  Little 
Rabbits,''  with  many  promptings  and  encour- 
aging nods  from  the  teacher.  The  Dutchman 's 
youngest  got  up  to  recite  **The  Burial  of  Sir 


234    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

John  Moore/'  and,  though  shaking  from  head 
to  foot,  attacked  the  doleful  stanzas  in  a 
high  key  and  with  sprightly  gesticulations. 
^^Frenchy's'^  brother  spoke  in  his  own  tongue 
a  piece  that  was  suitable  to  the  occasion ;  much 
to  his  amazement,  it  elicited  peals  of  laughter. 
When  he  sat  down,  the  program  wound  on  its 
tedious,  recitative  way  until  the  tree  was  again 
supplied  with  candles  by  the  neighbor  Woman's 
son,  and  the  little  girl  arose  to  deliver  a  wel- 
come to  that  same  Santa  Claus  from  whom  she 
expected  nothing. 

If  her  mother,  the  big  brothers,  and  the 
doting  Swede  boy  hoped  to  see  her  final  effort 
a  triumphant  one,  they  were  disappointed,  for 
she  spoke  falteringly  and,  at  one  juncture,  for- 
got her  lines.  Her  eyes  wavered  from  her  mo- 
ther to  the  tree,  from  the  tree  to  the  teacher, 
and  her  closing  words  were  inarticulate. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  however, 
only  the  fond  few  noticed  her  confusion.  The 
faint  tinkle  of  bells  and  the  swelling  toots  of  a 
tin  horn  were  announcing  the  approach  of 
Santa  Claus.  Before  the  little  girl  had  fin- 
ished, and  in  spite  of  the  teacher's  admonition, 
the  children  were  standing  up  and  looking  ex- 
pectantly toward  the  rear;  and  no  sooner  had 
the  little  girl  taken  her  seat,  than  they  broke 
forth  into  excited  chatter,  calling  to  one  another 
eagerly.     Then  the  door  was  suddenly  thrust 


HARD   TIMES  235 

open  to  the  sound  of  a  shrill  toot,  and  Santa 
Clans  came  bounding  in. 

Amid  the  din  of  the  horn  and  the  shouts  of 
the  children,  he  clambered  forward  to  the  plat- 
form, bobbing  to  right  and  left,  and  tweaking 
the  ears  of  those  he  passed.  Long,  yellow  rope 
hair  hung  down  from  under  a  round,  scarlet 
cap,  and  a  rope  beard  reached  to  his  portly 
waist.  Cotton  snow  and  another  kind  that 
melted  promptly  in  the  warm  room  covered  his 
shoulders  and  sleeves.  In  a  gruff  though 
merry  voice  that  sounded  above  all  the  others, 
he  sang  out  the  names  pinned  to  an  armful  of 
candy-bags. 

One  by  one,  big  and  little  hurried  up  to  re- 
ceive their  gifts  of  sweets.  The  little  girl 
evinced  none  of  the  delight  that  shone  on  the 
faces  of  the  other  children.  She  watched  the 
distribution  silently,  with  no  glad  throbs  of  the 
heart,  and  took  her  share  of  the  fruit  and  candy 
with  downcast  eyes.  Her  mother  sorrowfully 
noted  that,  even  when  the  bags  and  cornu- 
copias had  been  given  out  and  Santa  turned 
his  attention  to  the  pile  around  the  churn,  her 
interest  did  not  increase. 

She  watched  dully  as  the  girls  skipped  boldly 
up,  with  proud,  knowing  looks,  to  seize  their 
presents,  or  the  boys  sidled  forward  bashfully 
with  changing  color.  All  unwrapped  and  ad- 
mired their  gifts  as  soon  as  they  were  back  in 


236    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

their  seats.  The  Dutchman's  girls  shrieked 
with  joy  as  they  undid  their  presents,  the 
neighbor  woman's  daughter  could  scarcely 
hold  her  share  in  her  best  apron.  *  *  Frenchy  's ' ' 
brother  had  distended  pockets.  The  young 
farmer's  baby  crowed  in  purple  delight  over 
the  stack  of  parcels  before  him. 

The  little  girl's  lap  was  empty,  save  for  the 
candy  and  fruit  dropped  carelessly  into  it. 
A¥hen  the  pile  around  the  chum  had  dwindled 
sorely  and  but  a  dozen  gifts  remained,  the  little 
girl  had  not  yet  gone  forward  to  claim  one. 
The  other  children  had  been  too  occupied  to 
notice  her  ill  fortune  until  they  had  spent  their 
first  joy  over  their  gifts.  Then  one  of  the 
Dutchman's  girls  elbowed  the  neighbor  wo- 
man's son,  who  sat  next  her,  to  call  his  atten- 
tion to  the  little  girl,  and  he  passed  the  news 
on.  Soon  all  the  children  were  glancing  ques- 
tioningly  at  her  and  nudging  one  another. 

The  neighbor  woman's  daughter,  who  had 
often  shared  the  generous  fruit  of  the  annual 
tree  at  the  farm-house,  took  secret  satisfaction 
in  the  unlooked-for  fall  of  the  little  girl 's  pride, 
and  leaned  to  all  sides  to  whisper.  She  even 
stretched  in  front  of  the  little  girl  to  tell  it  to 
a  boy  beyond.  Not  daring  to  speak  plainly,  she 
resorted  to  pig-Latin.  ^^Seegry,"  she  cried, 
pulling  at  his  coat,  **shegry  ain'tgry  gotgry 
agry  thinggry."    But  when  the  little  girl,  who 


HARD  TIMES  237 

knew  pig-Latin  in  all  its  various  dialects, 
turned  angry,  scornful  eyes  upon  her,  the 
neighbor  woman's  daughter  sat  up  and  her 
smile  faded  to  a  sickly  blankness. 

Santa  Claus  was  now  almost  at  the  end  of  his 
resources.  The  floor  was  bare  about  the  churn, 
and  there  remained  only  three  or  four  parcels 
in  his  arms.  The  teacher  was  despoiling  the 
tree  of  its  pop-corn  festoons  and  tossing  them 
gaily  about.  Already  there  was  a  sound  of 
crunching  in  the  room,  as  the  candy,  nuts,  and 
fruit  met  their  destined  fate. 

But  all  at  once,  with  the  last  package,  a  long, 
thick  one,  held  up  before  his  jovial  face,  Santa 
Claus  started,  looked  a  second  time  at  the  writ- 
ing upon  it,  and  then,  with  a  jubilant  laugh, 
called  out  the  little  girl 's  name ! 

The  children  about  her  hushed  on  the  in- 
stant, and  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  her.  The 
pitying  expression  on  her  mother's  face 
changed  to  one  of  joy,  and  the  eldest  and  the 
youngest  brothers  slid  off  the  coal-bins  as  if 
they  were  possessed.  The  Swede  boy  and  the 
cattleman,  who  had  each  been  busy  blaming 
himself  for  something  worse  than  forgetful- 
ness  or  negligence,  fairly  beamed  at  the  back 
of  the  little  girPs  curly  head. 

Very  deliberately  she  got  up  and  stepped  to 
the  platform.  A  smile  curved  her  mouth,  and 
she  carried  her  pink  chin  high.     As  she  re- 


238    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

ceived  her  gift,  she  paused  for  one  moment 
to  drop  a  dainty  curtsy  and  to  thank  Santa 
Glaus,  a  proceeding  which  filled  all  the  other 
girls  with  envy,  since  they  had  omitted  it. 
Then  she  proudly  took  her  seat,  the  long,  thick 
package  in  one  hand.  It  was  wrapped  in  brown 
paper  and  tied  with  white  string. 

The  little  girl  did  not  open  the  package;  in- 
stead, she  sat  quietly  with  it  across  her  knee, 
displaying,  as  if  unconsciously,  her  name 
printed  in  full  across  it  in  large  letters  that 
strayed  upward,  and  that  were  headed  by  a 
**Miss"  entirely  of  capitals.  Under  her  name, 
in  glowing  red  ink,  was  written  *  *  Merry  Christ- 
mas," and,  farther  down,  the  words:  *^ There 
are  seven  beautiful  things  in  this  box  for 
you.-S.  C." 

When  the  teacher  had  made  her  closing 
speech,  all  rose  to  go.  The  little  girl,  as  she 
put  on  her  cap  and  the  big  buffalo  coat,  was 
the  center  of  interest,  for  the  children  crowded 
about  her  and  handled  her  package.  The 
neighbor  woman's  daughter  hung  the  closest, 
and  even  put  one  arm  around  the  little  girl. 
The  latter  did  not  seem  to  notice  any  one,  but 
put  the  package  under  her  coat  and  joined  her 
mother. 

When  the  pung  drove  up  to  the  door  the  lit- 
tle girl  lost  no  time  in  getting  into  it.  The  eld- 
est and  the  youngest  brothers  followed  her. 


HARD  TIMES  239 

The  biggest  and  his  mother  tarried  a  little, 
however,  the  one  to  speak  to  the  Swede  boy,  the 
other  to  accost  the  cattleman. 

There  was  a  teasing  look  in  the  biggest  bro- 
ther's eyes  as  he  gave  the  Swede  boy  a  slap  on 
the  back.  *  ^  Good  for  you ! ' '  he  said  in  an  un- 
dertone; **I  '11  never  forget  that,  long  's  I 
live."  The  Swede  boy  tried  to  answer,  hung 
his  head,  and  finally  made  off.  The  biggest 
brother  took  up  the  reins  and,  while  he  waited, 
continued  to  pick  cotton  from  the  lapels  of  his 
overcoat. 

Meanwhile  the  cattleman,  coming  out  of  the 
school-house  ready  for  his  drive  home,  sud- 
denly found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  tearful 
little  woman  who  gratefully  seized  his  big 
hands.  **0h,  how  good  of  you!''  she  cried; 
*^how  thoughtful  and  good  and  kind!  Thank 
you!  thank  you!" 

**What  fer?"  demanded  the  cattleman.  **I 
hain't  done  nothin',  my  dear  lady." 

*  *  Oh,  that  will  do  to  say, ' '  laughed  the  little 
girl's  mother  through  her  tears,  as  she  got  into 
the  pung  and  pulled  one  comer  of  the  tick  over 
her  head. 

The  little  girl  was  silent  during  the  home- 
ward ride;  and  on  their  arrival,  when  the 
family  entered  the  kitchen,  she  dropped  her 
package  beside  the  stove  and  began  to  take  off 
her  coat  and  cap.    Her  mother  and  the  biggest 


240    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

and  the  youngest  brothers  looked  at  her  in 
amazement. 

*^Why,  pet  lamb/'  her  mother  said  at  last, 
**are  n't  you  going  to  look  at  your  presents?'' 
She  picked  up  the  package  and  carried  it  to 
the  table. 

The  little  girl  slowly  shook  her  head.  The 
biggest  brother  saw  that  all  the  bravado  and 
indifference  shown  at  the  school-house  was 
gone.  In  their  place  was  a  look  of  keen  pain. 
He  lifted  her  and  held  her  on  his  lap,  guessing, 
all  at  once,  the  secret  of  the  seven  gifts.  '  *  My 
baby  sister!"  he  said,  and  trusted  himself  to 
speak  no  further.  She  understood,  and  put 
her  head  against  his  breast. 

The  youngest  brother,  spurred  by  curiosity, 
was  opening  the  package.  His  mother  stood 
beside  him.  As  the  brown  paper  fell  away  at 
the  severing  of  the  white  string,  he  sprang  back 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  The  biggest 
brother  put  the  little  girl  to  one  side,  got  up, 
and  stepped  across  to  look  down  at  the  contents 
thus  disclosed. 

He  was  reminded  of  the  rear  half  of  the  attic, 
where  for  years  had  been  gathering  odds  and 
ends.  There  was  a  bit  of  torn  and  faded  mos- 
quito-netting, an  old  mouth-organ,  a  broken 
domino,  a  pair  of  half-worn  mittens,  a  ten- 
penny  nail,  a  dog-eared  copy  of  **  Alice  in 
"Wonderland,"  and  a  slate-pencil. 


HARD  TIMES  241 

"My  daughter !' '  said  the  little  girl's  mo- 
ther, light  breaking  in  upon  the  situation;  **my 
brave  little  daughter ! ' '  She  turned  to  breathe 
a  mother's  comfort. 

But  the  little  girl,  her  cap  and  coat  resumed, 
was  disappearing  into  the  chill  shadows  of  the 
sitting-room. 


16 


XV 

THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN 

SASSY''  was  all  that  her  name  implied. 
From  the  very  beginning,  when,  as  a  small 
white  egg,  innocent  enough  in  appearance,  she 
left  the  hand  of  the  little  girl's  mother  and 
joined  nine  companions  under  a  fat  cochin,  it 
was  with  something  of  an  impudent  roll  that 
she  gained  her  place  in  the  nest.  Five  weeks 
later,  after  having  been  faithfully  sat  upon, 
and  as  faithfully  turned  each  day  by  the 
cochin's  beak,  she  gave  another  pert  stir,  very 
slight,  and  tapped  a  hole  through  her  cracking 
shell.  The  next  morning  she  swaggered  forth, 
a  round,  fluffy,  cheeping  morsel. 

She  was  not  Sassy  yet,  however.  It  was 
later,  when  she  lost  her  yellow  down  and  grew 
a  scant  coat  of  white  feathers,  through  which 
her  skin  showed  in  pimpled,  pinkish  spots,  that 
she  displayed  the  characteristics  that  chris- 
tened her,  and,  by  her  precocity  and  brazen- 
ness,  distinguished  herself  from  among  her 
leghorn  brothers  and  sisters. 

At  this  period  of  her  life,  a  pullet  in  both 

242 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN     243 

months  and  experience,  she  should  have  con- 
ducted herself  with  becoming  modesty.  In- 
stead, she  developed  a  habit  of  taking  her 
meals,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  from  the 
kitchen  table,  to  which  the  little  girl  did  not 
usually  go  until  long  after  the  big  brothers  had 
finished  and  withdrawn.  Sassy  made  her 
entrance  either  by  way  of  the  hall  or  through 
the  window  nearest  the  stove.  Once  inside,  she 
hopped  to  a  bench,  and  thence  to  the  oilcloth. 
Her  progress  from  one  end  of  the  board  to  the 
other  was  always  attended  by  serious  damage 
to  the  butter,  of  which  she  was  inordinately 
fond.  When,  having  fared  well,  she  at  last  de- 
scended, she  paraded  up  and  down,  with  many 
sharp,  inquiring  cries  of  ^^C-a-w-k?  c-a-w-k? 
c-a-w-kr'  and  wherever  her  claws  chanced  to 
touch  left  little,  buttery  fleurs-de-lis  on  the  floor. 
She  escaped  the  disastrous  fire,  not,  like  a 
dozen  other  fowls,  by  seeking  refuge  in  the 
wind-break,  but  because  she  was  in  the  coal- 
shed  carrying  on  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  with 
the  tortoise-shell  cat,  who  had  five  new  babies. 
By  Thanksgiving  day,  having  developed  into 
a  juicy  frier,  more  prone  than  ever  to  snoop, 
family  opinion  turned  against  her,  so  that 
when  it  came  to  the  question  which  chickens, 
in  view  of  the  shortage  of  feed,  should  occupy 
the  oven  in  place  of  the  usual  sizzling  turkey, 
the  big  brothers  and  the  little  girl  voted  for 


244    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  heads  of  Sassy  and  of  a  certain  myste- 
rious young  rooster  who,  though  disturbing, 
had  never  been  definitely  singled  out,  since,  on 
hearing  his  falsetto  crow  and  looking  about  for 
him,  the  family  invariably  came  upon  the  inso- 
lent pullet,  alone  and  unconcerned. 

The  day  before  Thanksgiving  the  little  girl 
was  directed  to  capture  both  the  rooster  and 
Sassy.  For  the  first,  she  selected  a  young 
leghorn  that  she  believed  to  be  the  guilty  trum- 
peter and  poked  him  into  a  box-coop  beside  the 
smoke-house.  Then  she  set  about  jailing  the 
culpable  pullet.  She  was  aided  by  Godfrey, 
the  biggest  brother's  pet  pointer,  who  scented 
Sassy  in  the  vegetable  patch,  where  she  was 
scratching  around  the  tomato  vines.  Together 
they  pursued  her  at  top  speed,  Godfrey  keeping 
close  to  his  bird,  but,  in  true  sportsmanlike 
fashion,  refraining  from  seizing  her.  Through 
the  tomatoes  they  ran,  till  the  little  girl  sat 
down  from  sheer  exhaustion,  with  Godfrey 
panting  beside  her  and  the  pullet  perched  near 
by  on  a  pile  of  seed  onions. 

After  a  ten  minutes'  rest,  the  little  girl  and 
the  pointer  renewed  their  chase.  This  time 
Sassy  left  the  tomato  patch  (foolishly  enough, 
for  the  vines  tripped  the  little  girl),  and  fled, 
with  hackles  spread,  toward  the  well,  where  a 
flock  was  dipping  water.  When  they  saw  her 
coming,  the  chickens,  among  which  were  sev- 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN     245 

eral  young  leghorns,  fled  in  terror  toward  the 
sorghum  patch  and  lost  themselves  in  its  woody 
lanes.  Godfrey  and  the  little  girl  charged  this 
western  jungle  with  zest,  thrashing  about  until 
the  pullet— supposedly— emerged  and  flitted 
toward  the  sod  barn.  But  when  for  the  second 
time,  and  after  a  lengthy  hunt  that  brought  up 
at  the  new  stacks,  they  paused  for  breath,  the 
little  girl  discovered,  to  the  mystification  of  the 
pointer,  who  did  not  know  one  leghorn  from 
another,  and  to  her  own  disgust,  that  since  their 
threading  of  the  sorghum  they  had  been  after 
the  wrong  chicken ! 

The  little  girl  sprawled  on  the  sunny  side 
of  a  stack  for  an  hour  or  two  after  that,  and 
chewed  straws.  She  pulled  off  her  shoes  to 
rest  her  stockingless  feet,  and  put  her  head  on 
Godfrey's  damp  side.  For  she  had  resolved  to 
postpone  the  catching  of  Sassy  till  evening, 
when  the  elusive  pullet  would  be  sleepily  seated 
on  a  two-by-four  in  the  empty  cow-stall  that 
now  served  for  a  coop. 

When  the  early  November  twilight  fell  upon 
the  farm-yard,  the  little  girl  roused  Godfrey 
by  gently  pulling  his  tail  and  skipped  round  to 
the  bam  door.  Under  ordinary  circumstances, 
the  task  of  creeping  lipon  an  unsuspecting 
chicken  and  seizing  it  for  the  block  would  have 
been  unpleasant.  But,  influenced  by  her  long 
dislike  of  the  pullet,  and  recalling  her  tiresome 


246    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

experience  of  the  afternoon,  she  chuckled  to 
think  that  she  would  soon  have  her  hands 
clasped  tightly  about  Sassy 's  yellow  legs. 
*  *  I  '11  not  make  a  mistake  this  time, ' '  she  said 
to  herself. 

She  entered  the  bam  slyly  and  stole  down 
behind  the  stalls  until  she  came  opposite  the 
perches.  The  chickens  were  settling  them- 
selves for  the  night,  moving  and  murmuring 
drowsily.  As  she  peeped  among  them,  her 
glance  fell  upon  Sassy,  outlined  against  the 
small  square  window  beyond  and  roosted  com- 
fortably with  her  beak  toward  the  manger,  all 
unconscious  of  her  nearing  doom.  The  little 
girl  was  certain  that  it  was  she,  for  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  rakish  lop  of  the  serrated 
comb,  or  the  once  white  under-feathers  soiled 
to  a  bluish  cast. 

The  little  girl  waited,  restraining  the  excited 
pointer,  until  the  light  had  faded  from  the 
square  window.  It  was  then  so  dark  that  the 
chickens  could  not  see  the  malevolent  fingers 
that,  thrust  softly  up  among  them,  grabbed  a 
leghorn's  shanks;  and  there  was  only  a  mildly 
concerned  ^^k-r-r-r!''  from  an  old,  watchful 
hen  as  the  little  girl  retreated,  one  hand  doing 
almost  fatal  duty  around  an  ill-starred  neck. 

By  the  time  that  the  little  girl,  triumphantly 
bearing  both  her  prey,  heads  down,  reached  the 
mounting-log  at  the  front  door  of  the  house, 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN     247 

where  the  eldest  brother  awaited  her  with  the 
hatchet,  it  was  nearly  as  dark  outside  as  it  had 
been  in  the  barn.  So  the  eldest  brother— for  the 
little  girl  had  hurried  away  after  giving  him 
the  chickens— could  not  tell  which  leghorn  suf- 
fered the  guillotine  first.  His  sanguinary  work 
being  done,  the  little  girl  returned  and  carried 
the  dead  fowls  into  the  coal-shed,  where  she 
tied  their  toes  together  and  hung  them  over 
a  nail. 

Early  next  morning  the  eldest  brother  was 
awakened  by  a  prolonged  falsetto  crow,— the 
familiar  disturbing  salute  of  the  chanticleer 
he  had  beheaded  the  night  before!  Puzzled 
and  wondering,  he  got  up,  ran  to  the  eastern 
window  of  the  attic,  and  looked  down  upon  the 
yard.  An  amazing  discovery  repaid  his 
promptness.  For,  as  the  chicken  once  more 
raised  its  voice,  he  saw  that  the  mysterious 
rooster  was  still  alive!  So  was  Sassy!  They 
were  combined  in  one  and  the  same  bird !  Two 
innocent  chickens  had  been  sacrificed! 

So,  until  the  next  spring,— the  spring  follow- 
ing the  fire,  and  one  ever  memorable  for  its 
wonderful  grass  and  flowers,  its  gentle  rains 
and  windless,  sunny  days,— Sassy  continued  to 
exasperate  the  family,  winning  only  censure. 
But  when  the  depleted  flock  could  not  furnish 
half  the  eggs  the  family  needed,  she  took  it 
upon  herself  to  lay  one  daily,  and  was  consider- 


248    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

ate  enough  to  render  it  unnecessary  for  the 
little  girl  to  go  out  and  bring  it  in,  by  deposit- 
ing it  in  the  hay-twist  box  behind  the  kitchen 
stove,  in  the  linen-barrel  in  the  entry,  or  on  the 
canopied  bed.  Then  she  found  an  appreciative 
friend  in  the  little  girPs  mother,  who,  whenever 
she  heard  a  proud,  discordant  announcement, 
half  crow,  half  cackle,  blessed  the  little  white 
hen  as  she  hurried  to  secure  the  offering. 

One  afternoon  during  Sassy 's  career  of  pro- 
lificacy, the  little  girl  remembered  that  her 
best  thick  dress  was  so  threadbare  that  she 
would  need  a  brand-new  one  for  the  next  win- 
ter. She  found,  too,  that  if  she  was  to  have 
one  she  must  devise  a  way  to  swell  the  small 
amount  in  the  tin  savings-bank;  for  the  big 
brothers  declared  they  would  be  able  only  to 
pay  the  heavy  debt  upon  the  farm  and  victual 
the  house  for  the  stormy  months  to  follow.  So 
she  hit  upon  the  idea  of  raising  chickens,  and 
broached  it  to  her  mother.  The  latter,  remem- 
bering the  sorry  Christmas  just  past,  at  once 
presented  her  with  Sassy,  promising  that  all 
the  eggs  the  leghorn  laid  should  be  credited  to 
the  little  girl  at  the  general  merchandise  store 
at  the  station,  and  that  all  the  chicks  hatched 
out  by  Sassy  should  go  the  same  way. 

The  little  girl  was  jubilant  over  the  plan,  and 
each  morning  answered  the  ^ '  cut-cut-c  't-a-a-ah- 
cuf  of  her  hen  with  a  gift  of  crumbs,  and  then 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN     249 

took  possession  of  the  new-laid  egg,  placing  it 
carefully  in  a  cracker-box.  When,  at  the  end 
of  as  many  days,  a  dozen  eggs  lay  side  by 
side,  she  took  them  out,  wrapped  each  one  in 
paper,  packed  them  all  in  a  lard-bucket  full  of 
shorts,  and,  mounting  the  blue  mare,  rode  to 
the  station,  where  she  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  eleven  cents  put  opposite  her  name  in 
the  egg-book  at  the  general  merchandise  store. 

This  was  repeated  four  times,  and,  the  price 
of  eggs  having  gone  up  a  few  cents  in  each  in- 
terval, the  little  girl  had  sixty  cents  to  put  in 
her  bank,  which  raised  her  total  to  one  dollar 
fifty-nine.  On  her  June  birthday  the  family 
presented  her  with  four  dimes ;  the  week  after 
she  sold  a  wooden  squirt-gun  to  the  neighbor 
woman's  son  for  five  cents.  It  was  then  plain 
that,  if  Sassy  should  continue  to  furnish  eggs 
faithfully,  the  dress  was  assured. 

But  at  this  happy  juncture,  and,  womanlike, 
without  a  single  cluck  of  warning,  the  leg- 
horn ceased  her  xiiurnal  laying,  and,  after  a 
spasmodic  week,  during  which  she  scattered 
three  or  four  eggs  on  the  little  girl's  bed,  gave 
no  further  sign  of  justifying  her  existence. 

The  little  girl  was  in  despair,  and  at  once 
confided  Sassy 's  delinquency  to  the  eldest  bro- 
ther, who  knew  a  great  deal  about  chickens. 
He  said  that  a  leghorn  was  an  all-year-round 
layer,  and  that  when  a  hen  of  the  breed  failed 


250    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

to  uphold  the  standard  of  her  kind  she  was  fit 
only  for  broiling.  The  youngest  brother,  over- 
hearing the  account  of  Sassy 's  conduct  and  the 
eldest  brother's  comments,  volunteered  the 
opinion  that  nothing  ailed  the  chicken  but  the 
pip,  and  advised  fat  and  pepper.  But  when 
three  days  had  gone  by  and  the  leghorn,  with 
generous  doses  of  axle-grease  and  cayenne, 
ailed  rather  than  recovered,  the  little  girl 
ceased  her  administrations. 

It  occurred  to  her,  in  the  midst  of  her  worry, 
that  perhaps  Sassy  wanted  to  set.  Accordingly 
she  got  ten  eggs  together,  arranged  them  in  a 
nest,  caught  the  hen,  and  put  her  upon  them. 
But  here  a  new  and  unlooked-for  thing  hap- 
pened. Sassy  would  not  stay  on  the  nest.  Not 
at  all  daunted,  the  little  girl  procured  a  broad 
strip  of  calico  and  tied  the  hen  down.  But  in 
her  struggles  to  get  free.  Sassy  broke  nearly 
all  of  the  eggs  under  her,  and  finally  hied  her- 
self out  of  the  new  coop  and  over  the  smoke- 
house to  liberty. 

Unhappy  that  her  leghorn  thus  spumed  to 
mother  a  brood,  the  little  girl  sought  the  big- 
gest brother.  * '  Oh,  no  wonder  the  mean  thing 
crows, ' '  she  said  to  him,  as  she  told  her  story. 

The  biggest  brother  conferred  long  and  sol- 
emnly on  the  question.  When  it  was  settled, 
the  little  girl  came  out  of  the  sitting-room  with 
a  look  of  hopeful  determination  upon  her  face 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN    251 

and  hunted  up  Sassy.  The  latter  had  grown 
so  bold  since  the  Thanksgiving  before  that  any 
one  could  pick  her  up  without  running^  after 
her.  So  the  little  girl,  in  two  winks,  had  her 
under  one  arm  and  was  on  her  way  to  the  car- 
nelian  bluff. 

It  was  a  hot,  sultry  day  in  midsummer,  and 
not  a  breath  of  wind  was  blowing  over  the 
farm.  The  grain-fields  were  still.  The  blades 
of  the  corn  drooped  limply.  The  creamy  sap 
of  the  milkweed  growing  in  the  timothy  meadow 
was  drying  up  in  the  stem.  Below  the  bluff 
the  herd  stood,  belly  deep,  lashing  about  them 
with  wet  tails,  and  the  pigs  wallowed  among 
the  wilting  bulrushes  in  damp  security. 

Yet,  with  all  its  heat  and  quiet,  the  afternoon 
was  destined  to  be  a  stormy  one.  The  swal- 
lows were  flying  low  across  the  farm-yard; 
the  colts,  pestered  by  busy  flies,  were  moving 
restlessly  about  the  wire  pen;  the  Maltese  cat 
was  trying  her  claws  on  a  table  leg  in  the 
kitchen;  and,  behind  the  wind-break,  a  collie 
had  given  over  a  beef -bone  and  was  industri- 
ously eating  grass.  But  all  these  signs,  which 
should  have  foretold  to  her  what  was  coming, 
were  unnoticed  by  the  little  girl  as  she  hurried 
along. 

At  the  southern  base  of  the  bluff  she  halted 
and  put  Sassy  on  the  ground  with  her  head 
pointing  up  the  hill.     Then,  with  apron  held 


252    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

wide,  she  began  to  shoo  the  hen  gently  toward 
the  summit.  For  the  biggest  brother  had  said 
very  emphatically  that  the  only  way  to  make  a 
chicken  lay  is  to  drive  her  up  a  hill. 

Sassy  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  the  apron, 
but  shook  her  wattles  crossly,  ^  *  k-r-r-red, ' '  and 
held  her  head  so  that  one  white  ear  lobe  lay 
questioningly  uppermost. 

**Now  you  go  up,''  commanded  the  little 
girl;  *^go  right  straight  up,  or  I  '11  just  give  it 
to  you.    I  HI  make  you  lay,  you  lazy  thing  I" 

Sassy  tilted  her  head  so  that  the  opposite 
ear  lobe  showed,  and  lifted  one  foot  against 
her  breast.  Otherwise  she  did  not  indicate  that 
she  had  even  heard  her  orders.  Her  disobedi- 
ence angered  the  little  girl. 

**Shoo!  shoo!  shoo!"  she  cried;  **do  you 
think  I  'm  going  to  carry  you?  No,  siree! 
You  '11  walk,— every  step  of  it,  too.  I  HI  teach 
you. ' '  She  seized  Sassy  by  the  tail  and  rudely 
shoved  her  forward. 

It  availed  no  more  than  the  shooing.  The 
hen  not  only  refused  to  advance,  but  turned  and 
flew  into  the  corn.  When,  after  chasing  her 
around  a  dozen  hills,  the  little  girl  once  more 
had  the  leghorn  held  tightly  in  her  hands,  she 
gave  her  a  good  shaking.  But  no  matter  how 
hard  the  little  girl  jerked  her  body  from  side  to 
side.  Sassy,  by  bending  her  neck,  kept  her  head 
defiantly  in  one  place.  / 


THE  FATE  OF  A  CROWING  HEN     253 

The  little  girl  was, at  her  wits'  end.  The  big- 
gest brother  had  specified  that  Sassy  should 
be  driven;  but  the  leghorn  would  not  drive. 
The  little  girl  had  tried  her  best  to  carry  out 
her  instructions,  and  had  only  discovered  the 
truth  of  the  old  adage  about  leading  a  horse  to 
water.  She  could  bring  Sassy  to  the  very  spot 
where  a  cure  could  be  effected— and  the  hen 
would  refuse  treatment.  Chagrined,  warm, 
and  discouraged,  she  resolved  to  carry  the 
chicken  bodily  to  the  stone-pile,  a  bare  half 
way,  and  there  think  over  her  failure.  So,  with 
Sassy  under  her  arm  once  more,  she  toiled  up 
the  grassy  slope. 

While  she  was  lying  beside  the  pile,  worried 
and  distraught,  with  the  leghorn  at  close  quar- 
ters throwing  up  dirt  and  pebbles,  the  air  be- 
came so  ominously  and  deathly  still  that  the 
little  girl  and  Sassy  fairly  gasped  for  breath. 
Over  the  grass  tops  the  heat  halted  and  lay  in 
long,  faintly  visible  waves,  like  a  ghostly  sea. 
And  in  the  west  there  began  to  arise,  silently 
and  swiftly,  a  vast  mountain  of  peculiar,  dense 
arched  clouds. 

It  bulged  upward  until  its  top  seemed  half 
way  to  the  sun.  Then,  with  lightning  rapidity, 
it  closed  in  at  its  middle  and  assumed  the  shape 
of  a  monster  toad-stool,  and  traveled  forward 
toward  the  Vermillion  with  a  mighty  roar. 

The  little  girl  neither  saw  nor  heard  it  as  it 


254    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

came  on.  Slie  was  thinking,  with  the  hopeful- 
ness of  youth,  over  Sassy 's  future  possibilities. 
^^She  '11  surely  start  laying  again  some  time,'' 
she  mused,  *'and  I  '11  borrow  a  hen  from  mo- 
ther to  set  on  the  eggs.  So  I  '11  have  all  those 
chickens,  and  when  they  grow  up  I  '11  have  all 
their  eggs,  and  some  of  them  will  set,  and—" 
She  lost  herself  in  an  endless  chain  of  compu- 
tation. 

The  toad-stool,  topped  with  angry,  boiling 
clouds,  was  now  but  five  or  six  miles  away.  It 
swayed  like  the  trunk  of  an  elephant  as  it 
darted  forward,  one  second  touching  the 
ground,  the  next  lifting  itself  into  the  air,  shift- 
ing and  lowering  as  if  it  were  picking  spots 
upon  which  to  alight.  A  breeze  sprang  up  and 
hurried  to  meet  it,  and  all  the  grass  and  corn- 
stalks bowed  that  way. 

Suddenly  the  rustling  about  her  made  the  lit- 
tle girl  look  up.  The  bright  sunshine  had 
changed  to  threatening  gloom,  the  sultry  quiet 
was  broken  by  whispers  of  tempest  and  rain. 
She  saw  the  nearing  cloud-column,  now  an 
hour-glass  in  form,  and  realized  her  awful  dan- 
ger. Calling  to  Sassy,  she  got  up  on  her  knees 
with  the  thought  of  flight. 

Sassy  answered  with  little  joyous  cries.  She 
was  gratefully  welcoming  the  forerunning 
breeze  of  the  cyclone  by  raising  her  wings,  and 
was  walking  sidewise  down  the  hill. 


THE  FATE  OF  A   CROWING  HEN     255 

The  next  moment,  a  torrent  of  water  struck 
the  little  girl  as  she  attempted  to  get  to  her 
feet,  and  rolled  Sassy  farther  away  from  the 
pile.  Then,  with  a  horrid  growl,  the  cyclone 
crossed  the  river,  skipped  over  the  swaying 
wheat,  and,  alighting  on  the  edge  of  the  corn, 
dragged  its  ravaging  base  across  the  field  with 
a  terrific  whirling  of  stalks  and  a  rending  and 
grinding  that  bespoke  the  very  end  of  things. 
Its  center  was  midway  between  the  bluff  and 
the  farm-house.  And,  as  its  farther  edge 
braided  the  cottonwoods  in  the  wind-break  and 
uprooted  the  stunted  apple-trees,  its  near  edge 
came  close  to  the  stone-pile  with  a  mighty  suck- 
ing breath. 

The  little  girl,  seeing  that  escape  was  impos- 
sible, for  the  rain  was  beating  her  down,  flung 
herself  in  the  lee  of  the  pile  and  clutched 
at  the  grass.  *' Sassy!''  she  shouted  again; 
*^ Sassy!''    But  the  cyclone  drowned  her  cry. 

With  starting  eyes  she  saw  the  swirling  cur- 
rents draw  Sassy,  maelstromlike,  in  and  in. 
The  hen  lost  her  feet,  was  next  tossed  like  a 
white  ball  hither  and  thither,  and  then  sped 
out  of  sight  into  the  vortex  of  the  storm 's  wild 
mingling  of  matter,  taking  with  her  all  the  little 
girl's  hopes  of  future  revenue— the  unlaid  eggs 
and  the  unhatched  chicks.  As  she  disappeared, 
she  gave  a  final  frightened,  crowing  cluck.  It 
was  her  swan  song. 


256    BIOaRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

When  the  tornado  had  swept  on,  leaving  in 
its  wake  a  wide  path  of  bare  ground  fringed 
with  wreckage,  the  little  girl  hurried  home  to 
assure  herself  that  her  mother  and  the  big  bro- 
thers had  gotten  into  the  storm-cellar,  and  that 
the  blue  mare  was  unhurt,  and  to  gaze  into  the 
sitting-room  mirror  to  see  if  her  hair  had 
turned  white.  Satisfied  upon  all  points,  she 
changed  her  clothes  and  started  eastward  on 
horseback,  following  the.  streaked  road  of  the 
cyclone.  As  she  traveled,  she  kept  steadfastly 
on  the  lookout,  and  jogged  along  until  the 
prairie  was  wrapped  in  night.  When,  at  last, 
she  turned  and  started  back,  she  carried,  as 
trophies  of  her  search,  her  mother's  wooden 
chopping-bowl,  dusty  and  unharmed,  and, 
thrust  in  her  hat-band,  a  solitary  memento  of 
the  vanished  crowing  hen,  a  broken,  soiled 
white  feather. 


XVI 
THE    RESERVATION  TRIP 

A  HUGE  pen  with  V-shaped  wings,  pat- 
.  temed  after  those  built  by  the  Indians  to 
imprison  antelope,  thrust  its  long,  high  neck 
over  the  railroad  embankment  and  against  the 
open  doors  of  the  cattle-cars  as  they  were  rolled 
along  the  siding.  Through  the  pen  and  up  the 
jutting  neck  into  the  stifling,  wheeled  boxes, 
lowing  in  fright  and  advancing  unwillingly, 
were  driven  the  Dutchman's  fat  steers  and  the 
beeves  belonging  to  the  cattleman.  When  a 
long  train  was  filled  with  them,  a  wildcat  en- 
gine backed  down  from  the  station,  coupled  on 
to  the  waiting  freight,  and  went  lumbering 
away  with  its  hungry,  thirsty  load,  bound  for 
a  packing-house  in  a  distant  city. 

The  little  girl  watched  the  shipping  of  the 
stock,  her  heart  sore  with  the  thought  that  only 
a  short  week  stood  between  the  home  herd  and 
the  shambles.  Never  before  had  she  mourned 
the  departure  of  the  cattle,  for,  spared  the  long 
ride  in  foul,  torturing  (Confinement,  they  had 
simply  disappeared  across  the  prairie  in  the  di- 

17  257 


258    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

rection  of  Sioux  Falls  or  Yankton,  contentedly 
feeding  as  they  went,  and  with  the  three  big 
brothers  riding  slowly  behind  them.  It  had 
always  been  the  same  with  the  sheep.  But  now 
there  rang  continually  in  her  ears  the  piteous 
bleating  of  the  little  flock  she  had  learned  to 
love  through  the  summer  months,  and  that, 
lured  by  a  treacherous  bell-wether,  had  passed 
through  the  pen,  some  days  before,  and  crossed 
the  long,  high  Bridge  of  Sighs. 

But  what  she  feared  for  the  animals  yet  to  be 
sold  never  came  to  pass.  The  morning  before 
the  big  brothers  were  to  round-up,  a  trooper 
rode  in  from  the  reservation  with  an  urgent 
message  from  the  new  commandant,  asking 
that  as  many  head  of  beeves  as  possible  be  sent 
to  the  post.  The  letter  stated  that  a  stock- 
raiser,  with  whom  negotiations  had  been  all 
but  closed,  had  received  an  offer  from  a  Kansas 
City  buyer  that  advanced  the  army  terms  by  a 
fraction  of  a  cent  per  pound  on  the  hoof.  The 
commissary,  therefore,  was  compelled  to  look 
elsewhere  for  meat. 

A  reply  was  at  once  sent  back,  promising 
a  drove  from  the  farm-house  within  a  week. 
And  as  the  little  girl  saw  the  cavalry  horse 
speeding  westward  with  the  message,  she  flew 
into  the  kitchen  with  a  happy  song  on  her  lips 
and  set  about  helping  her  mother  prepare  pro- 
visions for  the  trip. 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  259 

That  afternoon,  while  the  biggest  and  the 
youngest  brothers  divided  the  cattle,  putting 
those  that  were  to  be  wintered  into  the  wire 
pen,  the  eldest  shod  four  ponies,  three  for  rid- 
ing and  one  for  a  pack-horse.  The  start  was 
planned  for  the  next  day,  and  since  the  trip 
must  be  a  leisurely  one  in  order  that  the  ani- 
mals should  arrive  in  as  good  condition  as 
when  they  set  out,  a  cow  was  included  in  the 
drove  to  furnish  milk  during  the  two  days  or 
more  that  the  big  brothers  would  be  en  route. 

But  the  following  morning  all  plans  for  the 
journey  were  upset.  One  of  the  ponies  tried 
its  newly  shod  heels  on  the  youngest  brother 
with  such  viciousness  that  he  had  to  be  carried 
into  the  house.  The  biggest  brother  decided  to 
remain  at  home  and  take  care  of  him.  So, 
while  the  pack-horse  was  being  loaded  with 
blankets,  food,  and  a  coffee-pot,  the  eldest  bro- 
ther and  his  mother  discussed  the  situation  and 
at  last  agreed  that  the  little  girl  would  have  to 
help  in  the  drive. 

It  was  the  fall  before  the  little  girPs  thir- 
teenth birthday,  and  she  was  wearing  her  hair 
in  a  braid  and  her  dresses  to  her  shoe-tops. 
That  summer,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she 
had  not  gone  barefoot.  She  had  also  taken  to 
riding  a  side-saddle  with  a  red  plush  seat. 
A¥hen  her  mother,  therefore,  suggested  that  the 
trip  would  be  a  hard  one,  that  the  post  was  a 


260    BIOGBAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

rough  place,  and  that,  since  the  colonel 's  family 
had  gone  to  a  new  fort  in  Wyoming,  there  was 
no  house  on  the  reservation  at  which  she  could 
stay  overnight,  the  eldest  brother  pooh-poohed 
and  declared  that  the  little  girl  was  no  baby 
and  that  very  good  accommodations  could  be 
secured  at  a  hotel  near  the  barracks. 

They  started  immediately  after  dinner,  tak- 
ing two  dogs  along,  and  crossed  the  Vermillion 
to  the  West  Fork.  There  the  cattle  were 
brought  to  a  stand  and  a  camping-place  was 
selected.  They  were  still  so  near  the  farm  that 
the  eldest  brother,  anxious  to  know  how  mat- 
ters were  at  home,  induced  the  little  girl  to  re- 
turn to  the  farm-house  for  the  night.  She  did 
so,  and  joined  him  before  sunrise  next  morning. 

There  was  a  worried  look  on  her  face  as  she 
came  galloping  up,  and  the  eldest  brother,  fear- 
ful that  the  youngest  was  worse,  demanded  the 
news. 

*  *  Everything  's  just  as  it  was  when  we  left, ' ' 
said  the  little  girl,  **only  naother  's  awfully 
scared  about  my  going,  because  the  Swede 
told  her  last  night,  when  he  heard  that  I  was 
gone,  that  the  hotel  at  the  post  is  an  awful 
place,  full  of  gamblers  and  thieves.  Two  or 
three  men  that  had  money  have  disappeared 
there,  and  never  been  seen  since.  The  Swede 
says  he  thinks  the  proprietor  is  n't  any  better 
than  he  should  be. '  * 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  261 

*'0h,  that  Swede  's  a  regular  croaker,''  re- 
plied the  eldest  brother.  **  'Fraid  as  death  of 
his  own  shadow.  I  can  take  care  of  you  and 
myself  and  the  money  to  boot.  Need  n  't  to  fret 
while  I  Ve  got  my  pistols  handy." 

**Well,  mother  says,''  added  the  little  girl, 
* '  that  she  hopes  nothing  happens  to  the  money, 
because  it  '11  finish  putting  us  in  as  good  shape 
as  we  were  before  the  fire.  She  does  n't  think 
anybody  'd  hurt  us,  exactly." 

Nothing  more  was  said  about  the  hotel  after 
that,  and  the  little  girl  soon  forgot  her  disquiet 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  trip.  She  had  made  it 
but  two  or  three  times  since  the  return  from 
her  christening,  and  had  always  gone  so  fast 
in  the  light  wagon  or  the  buckboard  that  she 
had  no  time  to  enjoy  the  changing  scenery. 
Now  they  were  not  keeping  to  the  main  road, 
and  she  saw  landmarks  and  farms  that  were 
new  to  her  as  they  traveled  from  the  West  Fork 
to  the  *^  Jim,"  and  on  to  the  Missouri. 

That  night  the  eldest  brother  pitched  camp 
on  a  hillock  not  far  from  the  herd  and  well  out 
of  way  of  the  mosquitos.  To  make  the  little 
girl's  safety  certain,  he  put  her  blankets  at  the 
center  of  a  square  that  was  roped  in  by  lariats, 
the  stakes  being  black  willows  cut  from  a  clump 
on  the  river  bank.  She  lay  down  with  the  dogs 
beside  her,  but,  unused  to  the  strangeness  of 
her  bed,  slept  little.    The  eldest  brother  stayed 


262    BIOGRAPHY   OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

with  the  herd,  so  she  passed  the  long  hours  be- 
fore midnight  looking  up  at  the  stars  and 
thinking. 

She  could  hear  the  yelping  of  some  coyotes 
that  were  cautiously  reconnoitering  from  a 
neighboring  bluff.  When  they  came  near,  the 
dogs  sprang  up  and  challenged  them,  and  soon 
their  cries  died  away  as  they  slunk  down 
a  deep  coulee.  The  dogs  quieting  again,  she 
caught  the  sound  of  faint  movements  and  calls 
in  the  grass.  An  owl  hooted,  and  it  was  so  like 
the  signal-cry  of  some  prowling  Blackfeet  who 
had  visited  the  farm  one  night  that  she  was 
startled  and  sat  up.  A  bird  chirped  and  a 
rabbit  hopped  by.  Down  among  the  cattle  a 
steer  coughed,  or  grunted  as  it  got  awkwardly 
to  its  feet.  And  there  was  an  occasional  click 
of  horn  against  horn  as  an  animal  moved  its 
head.  At  last  all  the  sounds  blended  and  faded, 
and  she  fell  asleep,  lulled  by  the  song  that  the 
eldest  brother  was  singing  to  the  herd. 

At  three  o'clock  the  following  afternoon, 
though  they  had  gone  at  a  grazing  pace  since 
sun-up,  they  arrived  in  sight  of  the  post  and 
halted  a  mile  away  from  the  nearest  dugout. 
The  little  girl  and  the  dogs  remained  with  the 
cattle  while  the  eldest  brother  cantered  in  to 
report  his  arrival.  When  he  returned,  a  young 
lieutenant  came  with  him  to  inspect  the  drove ; 
and  by  six  o'clock  the  beeves  had  been  declared 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  263 

satisfactory  and  were  in  a  stockade  pen  behind 
the  barracks.  Then  the  eldest  brother,  his  belt 
heavy  with  good  government  coin,  rode  with 
the  little  girl  toward  the  hotel,  a  rough,  one- 
story  building  flanked  on  either  side  by  a  gam- 
bling-house. 

They  ate  their  supper  in  the  small,  unpapered 
parlor  which  adjoined  the  bar,  for  the  eldest 
brother  had  looked  into  the  dining-room  and 
found  it  as  thick  with  smoke  and  men  as  the  sa- 
loon. When  the  meal,  which  was  served  by  an 
Indian  woman,  was  over,  the  little  girl  remained 
quietly  in  her  chair/while  the  eldest  brother 
went  out  to  sell  the  pack-pony.  He  returned 
late,  delighted  over  making  a  fine  bargain  with 
a  Canadian  fur-trader,  to  find  her  waiting  pa- 
tiently but  tremblingly  for  him. 

**0h,  they  Ve  been  making  such  a  terrible 
noise  in  the  saloon, ''  she  told  him,  as  she 
sprang  up  to  let  him  in.  ^*I  locked  the  door 
because  I  was  scared.  I  could  hear  swear- 
ing and  quarreling,  and  poker  chips  rattling 
around. ' ' 

He  did  not  answer  until  he  had  carefully  hid- 
den the  price  of  the  pony  in  his  belt.  Then  he 
put  his  revolvers  on  the  table  and  drew  a  chair 
close  to  hers. 

**I  just  met  Eagle  Eye,'*  he  whispered,  **an' 
he  says  that  what  the  Swede  told  ma  is  true. 
This  hotel  's  a  tough  place,  and  the  man  that 


264    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

runs  it  's  got  a  bad  name.  It  's  full  of  gamblers 
now,  too,  because  the  troopers  have  just  been 
paid.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  bunkin'  here  to- 
night one  bit.  Pretty  nearly  every  man  knows 
I  've  got  a  lot  of  money  on  me.  But  what  c'n 
we  do?" 

The  little  girl  knit  her  brows.  **We  might 
stay  right  in  this  room, ' '  she  whispered  at  last. 
**You  could  bring  in  the  blankets  and  I  'd 
watch  while  you  slept  a  little  while;  and  then 
you  could  watch  till  morning.'' 

*^0h,  I  guess  it  ain't  so  bad  as  all  that." 

**0r  we  could  ride  toward  home  and  camp. 
I  'm  not  tired,  and  I  'd  rather  ride  than  stay 
here,  especially  alone  in  a  room." 

**Well,  now,  I  don't  intend  to  let  you  stay 
alone  in  a  room,"  declared  the  eldest  brother. 
*^But  there  's  no  use  of  our  tryin'  to  start 
home  to-night.  We  could  n't  get  off  without 
somebody  knowin'  about  it,  and  I  don't  want 
any  cutthroat  Indians  after  me.  If  we  had 
fresh  horses  it  'd  be  a  different  thing.  We  'd 
lead  'em  a  run  for  the  farm.  But  the  ponies 
are  tired.  We  '11  start  home  in  the  mornin', 
and  I  '11  get  this  wad  into  a  safe  at  the  station 
before  night."    He  tapped  his  belt. 

A  knock  brought  him  to  his  feet.  On  open- 
ing the  door,  the  hotel  man  stood  before  him. 
**I  suppose  you  folks  want  a  brace  of  rooms," 
he  said,  taking  in  the  revolvers  with  a  swift 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  265 

glance  of  his  little,  deep-set  eyes.  *  ^  I  can  give 
you  two  that  have  a  door  between.  Only  ones 
I  Ve  got  left.  Had  to  put  Pinky  Jackson  into 
the  barn  to  clear  one  of  ^em.  And  he  ^s  a 
regular  boarder,  too.*'  He  looked  the  little  girl 
up  and  down  so  searchingly  that  she  shrank 
behind  the  eldest  brother. 

The  eldest  brother  took  up  his  revolvers. 
**One  room  '11  do  us,''  he  said.  ^'We  '11  jus' 
camp  like  we  did  on  the  prairie  last  night.  Sis- 
ter 's  a  little  bit  nervous;  could  n't  think  of 
puttin'  her  off  by  herself.  Give  us  a  room  with 
a  shake-down,  and  I  '11  roll  up  in  some  blankets 
on  the  floor." 

The  hotel  man  slapped  the  eldest  brother  on 
the  back.  *^You  're  the  right  kind  of  a  bro- 
ther," he  cried  heartily;  *4ike  to  see  it.  We 
men  kind  o'  forget,  living  out  in  these  wilds, 
how  scarey  and  tender  girls  are.  Come  along, 
I  've  got  the  very  room  for  you."  He  picked 
up  the  lamp,  crossed  the  crowded  saloon,  be- 
tween card-tables  full  of  men,  and  led  the  way 
down  a  long  passage.  The  eldest  brother  and 
the  little  girl  followed  close  at  his  heels,  scarcely 
giving  a  glance  to  the  gaping  crowd  in  the  bar. 

The  room  into  which  they  were  shown  was 
at  the  very  end  of  the  passage  and  in  the  rear 
part  of  the  house.  It  was  uncarpeted,  and  its 
ceiling  was  so  low  that  the  eldest  brother  could 
reach  up  and  touch  it  with  the  flat  of  his  hand. 


266    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

A  wide,  rough  bedstead  occupied  one  side; 
against  the  opposite  wall  stood  a  cot  of  the 
kind  used  in  military  camps.  A  chair  with  a 
rawhide  bottom  completed  the  furniture.  The 
door  from  the  passage  was  the  only  one  leading 
into  the  room.  There  were  no  windows  at  all, 
but  at  one  end  a  casing  had  been  boarded  up. 
The  eldest  brother,  after  a  quick  survey,  re- 
marked the  lack  of  light. 

**Well,  you  see,''  explained  the  hotel  man, 
*Hhis  room  originally  looked  out  on  the  yard. 
But  when  I  built  on  a  lean-to,  the  window  was 
closed.  Won 't  make  any  difference  to  you,  will 
it?    Heard  you  were  going  to  leave  early." 

**0h,  no,"  said  the  eldest  brother.  He  took 
the  lamp  and  set  it  on  the  floor.  When  the  hotel 
man  had  given  a  last  sharp  look  around,  he 
went  out  and  closed  the  door. 

Without  losing  a  moment,  the  little  girl,  who 
was  wearied  with  her  long  day's  ride,  put  some 
matches  within  easy  reach  and  flung  herself 
down  in  her  clothes  on  the  cot.  But  the  eldest 
brother,  after  rolling  the  bedstead  against  the 
door,  examined  the  window  to  make  sure  that 
it  was  nailed  fast,  and  gently  tapped  the  walls 
to  see  that  no  spot  gave  back  the  hollow  sound 
that  would  suggest  a  secret  entrance.  Satisfied 
that  all  was  safe,  he  unbuckled  his  belt,  put  it 
under  the  blankets  at  the  little  girl's  feet,  and 
extinguished  the  light. 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  267 

It  was  then  past  eleven,  but  the  hotel  was 
still  awake  and  noisy.  The  eldest  brother  con- 
cluded that  it  would  be  well  to  get  a  short  nap 
at  once  and  remain  awake  throughout  the 
hours  when,  the  bar-room  being  deserted,  any 
attempt  to  molest  him  would  be  made.  The  lit- 
tle girl  was  already  breathing  deeply.  He 
threw  himself  across  the  bed,  his  pistols  beside 
him. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  been  asleep 
when  he  found  himself  wide  awake  and  con- 
scious that  some  one  was  moving  softly  toward 
him.  He  struggled  to  spring  up,  half  con- 
vinced that  he  was  having  a  nightmare,  but  his 
body  refused  to  obey.  All  at  once,  as  he  lay 
silently  looking  upward,  a  man  arose  from  be- 
side the  bed  and  leaned  over  him. 

A  dim  light,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the 
rear,  brought  out  the  menacing  figure  plainly. 
One  arm  was  half  raised  as  if  to  strike.  It  was 
evident  that  the  assassin  was  in  doubt,  since 
the  headboard  shaded  the  bed,  as  to  whether 
the  eldest  brother  or  the  little  girl  was  stretched 
before  him.  The  next  instant  he  knew,  for  the 
eldest  brother  twisted  in  agony  at  sight  of  the 
arm  poised  above  him  and  uttered  a  groan. 

Quick  as  a  flash  the  figure  swayed  toward 
him  and  the  arm  descended.  But  the  eldest 
brother  was  quicker.  He  rolled  sidewise,  and 
at  the  same  time  struck  out  with  his  right  hand. 


268    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  dull  blow  not  made 
by  his  fist,  a  scream  from  the  little  girl,  and  the 
thump  of  the  eldest  brother's  body  as  he  struck 
the  floor  on  the  farther  side  of  the  bed. 

Intense  stillness  followed.  The  eldest  bro- 
ther, a  revolver  in  either  hand,  got  cautiously 
to  his  knees  and  peered  across  to  where  his  as- 
sailant had  stood.  The  dim  light  was  gone 
now,  however,  and  he  could  make  out  nothing. 
He  waited,  holding  his  breath,  to  see  if  any  one 
were  creeping  upon  him  from  under  or  around 
the  bed.  Hearing  nothing  but  a  sob  from  the 
little  girl,  he  at  last  arose  to  his  feet,  his  eyes 
and  his  weapons  on  the  alert,  and  stepped  back 
against  the  wall.  Then  he  sidled  along  until, 
having  passed  the  boarded-up  window  and  two 
corners,  his  knees  struck  the  cot. 

*^ Don't  be  afraid,''  he  said,  squatting  in- 
stantly to  one  side  to  dodge  any  bullet  or  knife 
that  might  be  guided  by  his  voice.  After  an- 
other short  wait  he  added,  *^I  think  he  's  gone. 
Light  the  lamp." 

While  the  match  flickered  in  the  little  girl's 
hand,  the  eldest  brother  again  moved  eyes  and 
pistols  in  a  half-circle.  But  as  the  lamp  was 
lifted  and  its  light  dispelled  the  darkness,  he 
saw  that  they  were  alone.  To  remove  every 
doubt,  he  looked  under  the  bed  and  the  cot  and 
behind  the  headboard.  When  his  search  was 
completed  he  sat  down  on  the  rawhide-bot- 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  269 

tomed  chair,  trembling,  enraged,  and  mysti- 
fied. 

*  *  Am  I  crazy  T '  he  asked  in  a  low  voice.  *  ^  I 
was  sure  there  was  a  man  in  here.  But  if  there 
was,  how  'd  he  get  outT' 

**I  heard  some  one,'*  whispered  the  little 
girl.  She  was  very  pale,  and  kept  close  beside 
him  for  protection. 

The  eldest  brother  thought  a  moment.  Then 
he  jumped  up  and  strode  over  to  the  bed. 
**  Bring  the  lamp,*^  he  said. 

Together  they  examined  the  covers.  Only 
the  top  one  had  been  turned  down.  Now  it  lay 
as  the  eldest  brother  had  tossed  it  when  he 
rolled  out  upon  the  floor.  The  other  blankets 
were  undisturbed.  He  ran  his  fingers  over 
them  carefully. 

Suddenly  he  uttered  a  cry  and  began  to  fold 
them  back  swiftly,  finding  on  each  the  trace  he 
sought.  When  the  mattress  was  at  last  laid 
bare,  he  pointed  to  a  narrow  slit  that  did  not 
penetrate  to  the  under  side. 

**It  was  a  knife,"  said  the  little  girl,  and  the 
lamp  almost  fell  from  her  grasp. 

The  eldest  brother  nodded,  dragged  the  bed 
away  from  the  door,  and  flung  it  wide.  The 
passage  was  dark  and  still,  apparently  empty. 
'* Hello!"  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs. 
** Hello,  there!" 

As  the  sound  of  his  voice  died  away,  a  dis- 


270    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

tant  door  creaked  and  the  hotel  man  came  out 
in  his  underclothes,  a  candle  in  his  hand. 
*^^Vhat  's  the  matter?''  he  called  crossly,  com- 
ing toward  them.  *^You  '11  wake  the  whole 
house."  He  looked  around,  a  trifle  dismayed, 
the  eldest  brother  thought,  to  see  other  doors 
being  opened  and  heads  thrust  out. 

**That  's  just  what  I  intend  to  do,"  cried  the 
eldest  brother.  **I  want  to  let  every  man  in 
the  hotel  know  that  you  keep  a  murderer  handy 
to  stab  people  in  their  sleep  1 ' ' 

The  proprietor  was  now  close.  He  brought 
up  abruptly  at  the  daring  accusation  and 
glared  at  the  eldest  brother.  ** Don't  you  give 
me  any  such  talk  as  that,"  he  said.  His  teeth 
came  together  with  a  snap,  and  he  reached  in- 
stinctively to  the  place  where,  in  the  daytime, 
was  the  pocket  that  held  a  ready  pistol. 

^  *  Don 't  vou  dare  deny  it, ' '  answered  the  eld- 
est brother.  He  brought  a  revolver  in  line  with 
the  hotel  man's  eyes.  **Do  you  see  that?"  he 
queried.  ^'Well,  just  be  very  careful,  and  come 
here.  I  want  to  show  you  something."  He 
motioned  the  other  to  precede  him.  Together 
they  entered  the  bedroom.  A  curious  crowd 
followed  and  filled  uf^  apartment.  ^^Now," 
went  on  the  eldest  brother,  *'look  at  that  bed." 

One  by  one  they  stepped  forward,  ran  their 
fingers  through  the  slits  in  the  covers,  smiled 
grimly,  and  backed  away  to  whisper  among 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  271 

themselves.  The  hotel  man  did  like  the  rest, 
only  his  smile  was  pacifying,  cringing. 

When  all  had  had  their  turn,  the  eldest  bro- 
ther faced  the  crowd.  *^I  heard  last  night,'' 
he  said,  *Hhat  more  'n  one  man  has  hired  a 
room  in  this  hotel  and  never  been  seen  again. 
So  I  shoved  my  bed  against  the  door,  before  I 
went  to  sleep,  to  make  sure  we  'd  be  safe.  That 
knife  cut  shows  how  safe  we  was.''  He  seized 
the  proprietor  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 
*'  There  's  a  remedy  for  holes  like  this.  Like  as 
not,  these  gentlemen  know  about  it."  There 
was  a  murmur  of  assent  from  the  listening 
crowd.  **Now  I  '11  give  you  jus'  a  minute  to 
show  the  gentlemen  where  that  secret  entrance 
is  that  I  looked  for  last  night.  Then  we  '11  talk 
remedy." 

He  cocked  a  pistol,  his  fingers  still  on  the 
hotel  man's  shoulder,  and  held  the  eyes  of  the 
latter  steadily.  They  stood  thus  for  a  moment, 
face  to  face. 

**I  don't  know  anything  about  a  secret  en- 
trance, ' '  growled  the  hotel  man  at  last,  with  an 
oath.  *'But  if  you  '11  take  your  hand  off  me 
and  put  down  that  shooting-iron,  I  '11  help 
you  hunt  it,  if  there  is  one. ' ' 

The  eldest  brother  did  as  he  was  asked,  and 
the  hotel  man  began  to  walk  about,  looking 
above  him,  examining  the  walls,  scrutinizing 
the  floor.    Soon  all  the  rest  were  similarly  oc- 


272    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

cupied,  even  the  eldest  brother  taking  his  eyes 
off  his  host  to  search  the  boards  at  his  feet. 

The  opportunity  for  which  the  hotel  man 
was  waiting  came.  While  the  attention  of  all 
was  diverted,  he  moved  around  until  he  was  op- 
posite the  door,  and  then  slipped  through  it 
with  a  defiant  yell.  Down  the  dark  passage  he 
fled,  and  gained  its  farther  end  before  the  eld- 
est brother,  with  the  crowd  behind  him,  took  up 
the  chase.  Shots  were  fired  at  haphazard  into 
the  gloom.  But  when  the  hotel  had  been  care- 
fully searched,  no  proprietor  was  to  be  found. 
His  pursuers,  certain  that  he  was  hidden  in 
some  closet  known  only  to  himself,  adjourned 
to  the  bar  to  discuss  ways  and  means. 

The  news  of  the  trouble  at  the  hotel  spread 
like  thistle-down  in  a  high  wind.  In  half  an 
hour  the  saloon  was  jaromed  with  cattlemen, 
traders,  soldiers,  gamblers,  half-breeds,  and  In- 
dians, all  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of 
the  absent  proprietor's  liquor,  which  was  flow- 
ing freely,  and  all  ready  to  hear  what  the  eldest 
brother  had  to  say. 

He  stood  on  the  slippery  counter  to  address 
them,  his  weapons  still  in  his  hands.  On  one 
side  was  a  solitary  lamp  that  brought  out  dimly 
the  faces  upturned  to  him ;  on  the  other  sat  the 
little  girl,  facing  the  mob  as  it  waited,  sin- 
ister, determined,  threatening,  ready  to  act 
upon  any  mad  suggestion. 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  273 

When  the  eldest  brother  had  recounted  his 
story,  he  stood  in  silence,  waiting  for  some  one 
to  speak.  After  a  short  pause  there  was  a 
nwvement  in  the  rear  of  the  room,  and,  with  a 
jingle  of  spurs,  there  stepped  forward  Eagle 
Eye,  the  scout. 

He  pulled  off  his  slouch-hat  and  shook  back 
his  long  hair  as  he  leaped  to  a  place  beside  the 
eldest  brother.  Then  he  put  his  hands  to  his 
belt  and  stood,  arms  akimbo.  ^*  There  's  been 
bad  work  here  before,''  he  said,  **and  we  've 
let  it  pass.  But  shall  we  let  it  pass  this  time?" 
There  were  cries  of  **No,  no,"  and  curses  on 
the  head  of  the  hotel  man.  Eagle  Eye  went 
on.  *  *  It  's  a  dark  night :  the  moon  is  down,  and 
the  sun  is  slow  a-rising.  We  had  better  have 
a  light  to  show  us  to  our  beds."  There  was  a 
hidden  meaning  in  his  voice  that  was  read  and 
answered  with  cheers  by  the  drunken  mob. 

**What  say  you,  Langdon?"  he  continued, 
whirling  round  upon  a  man  on  whose  blue  flan- 
nel shirt  shone  a  star  and  whose  belt  gave  back 
the  glint  of  nickel. 

Langdon  gave  a  laugh  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  before  draining  the  flask  in  his  hand. 

**This  is  my  friend,"  said  Eagle  Eye,  ex- 
tending one  arm  above  the  little  girl  and  rest- 
ing it  on  the  eldest  brother's  shoulder.  ^*We 
will  help  him  drive  the  fox  from  the  haystack. ' ' 

Another  cheer  greeted  him.    He  jumped  to 

18 


274    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

the  floor,  and  the  eldest  brother  followed,  lift- 
ing the  little  girl  down  beside  him.  The  crowd, 
eager  for  the  vengeful  finale,  rushed  out  of  the 
bar  to  the  street. 

Eagle  Eye  hung  back  to  whisper  in  the  eldest 
brother's  ear.  *^It  's  a  good  time  for  you  to 
get  out,''  he  said.  **I  '11  help  you  saddle  the 
ponies."  He  knelt  to  unfasten  his  spurs  and 
put  them  on  the  other's  boots. 

The  eldest  brother  felt  of  his  belt,  grasped 
the  little  girl's  hand,  and  hurried  out  of  a  side 
door  with  the  half-breed.  A  soldier  had  car- 
ried away  the  lamp  to  use  it  as  a  brand,  and  no 
one  saw  them  leave  the  darkened  room.  Once 
in  the  stable,  the  work  of  getting  the  horses 
ready  took  but  a  few  moments.  Then  the  eldest 
brother  and  the  little  girl  mounted  and  rode  at 
a  walk  toward  the  barracks,  with  Eagle  Eye  on 
foot  beside  them  and  the  dogs  trotting  after. 

When  they  were  so  far  that  their  horses' 
hoof-beats  could  not  be  heard  by  the  crowd, 
they  gave  the  half-breed  a  silent,  grateful  shake 
of  the  hand  and  galloped  rapidly  toward  home. 
Not  until  the  post  was  a  mile  behind  did  they 
halt  at  the  top  of  a  ridge  to  look  back. 

Volleys  of  shots  and  shouting  were  borne  to 
their  ears  by  the  early  morning  breeze,  for  the 
crowd  was  celebrating  the  progress  of  a  swiftly 
mounting  blaze.  Soon  the  eldest  brother  and 
the  little  girl  could  see  the  men  running  ex- 


THE  RESERVATION  TRIP  275 

citedly  about,  and  caught  the  smell  of  kindling 
lumber.  In  a  few  moments  the  post  sprang 
into  sight  as  the  hotel  became  a  mass  of  flame. 
The  mob  as  it  moved  about  the  rim  of  the 
burning  pile,  looked  like  wooden  men  pulled  by 
wires.  There  were  fewer  shots  now  and  little 
shouting.  The  conflagration  seemed  to  glut  the 
horde.  The  eldest  brother  and  the  little  girl 
dared  pause  no  longer,  but  cantered  on.  When 
they  looked  around  for  the  last  time,  the  fire 
had  died  down,  and  its  thin  smoke  was  carry- 
ing up  a  myriad  sparks,  to  die  out  in  the  dome 
of  the  slowly  brightening  sky. 


xvn 

ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF 

COTTONWOOD  leaves  from  the  wind- 
break, splashed  with  red  from  the  wounds 
of  the  frost,  tarried  at  the  window-panes  to  tap 
gently,  or  went  hurrying  past  the  farm-house 
with  the  north  wind  that  was  whining  dolor- 
ously under  the  wet  gables,  to  find  their  way 
through  the  branches  of  the  ash-trees  in  front. 
The  crows  strutted  across  the  stubbled  wheat, 
spouting  to  one  another  over  their  finds.  The 
dead  pea-vines  in  the  vegetable  garden  screwed 
about  till  they  loosened  their  roots,  and  then 
scampered  up  the  furrowed  potato-field  as  the 
guardian  of  their  gathered  fruit  flounced  his 
empty  sleeves  and  ample  coat-tails  at  them.  A 
family  of  robins  that  had  dallied  too  long  in 
the  north  whirred  over  the  corn-field,  where 
the  shocks  were  standing  in  long,  regular  lines, 
and  called  down  a  last  crisp  good-by  to  the 
russet,  plume-topped  tents  of  autumn's  invad- 
ing army. 

But  all  the  bleakness  without,  that  November 
morning,  could  not  equal  the  bitterness  within, 

276 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  277 

though  the  iron  tea-kettle  was  singing  cheerily- 
enough  over  the  hot  coal  fire  in  the  sitting-room 
stove,  and  the  collies,  to  show  their  lazy  appre- 
ciation of  cozy  quarters,  were  thumping  their 
tails  contentedly  against  the  rag  carpet.  For, 
with  the  eldest  and  the  youngest  brothers  elk- 
hunting  beyond  Fort  Mandan,  and  the  biggest 
miles  away  at  Yankton  with  a  load  of  hogs, 
the  little  girl,  half  dazed  with  anxiety,  was 
watching,  alone  save  for  the  neighbor  woman, 
beside  the  canopied  bed. 

Her  mother's  illness  had  come  with  alarm- 
ing suddenness.  The  afternoon  before  she  had 
been  apparently  as  well  as  usual,  and  when  the 
little  girl  went  into  her  room  for  the  night,  was 
humming  to  herself  as  she  chopped  up  turnips 
for  the  cows.  But  the  neighbor  woman,  arriv- 
ing later  in  quest  of  a  start  of  yeast,  found  her 
lying  still  and  speechless  in  the  entry,  where 
she  had  been  stricken  at  her  work.  Brandy  had 
revived  her,  and  she  had  begun  to  recover  her 
strength.  Yet  it  was  plain  to  the  neighbor  wo- 
man and  the  little  girl,  no  matter  how  much  the 
sufferer  strove  to  make  light  of  her  fainting, 
that  help  was  needed. 

Throughout  the  forenoon  the  little  girl 
begged  hard  for  permission  to  go  to  the  sta- 
tion for  the  new  doctor.  Her  mother,  seeing 
through  the  windows  how  sunless  and  blustery 
it  was  outside,  entreated  her  to  wait  until  the 


278    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

next  day,  when  the  biggest  brother  would  be 
home.  But  the  neighbor  woman,  who  dreaded 
a  second  attack,  at  last  joined  her  arguments 
to  the  little  girPs,  dwelling  upon  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  brother's  return;  and  shortly 
after  dinner  the  mother  consented. 

**If  there  were  only  some  one  else  to  send," 
she  whispered  as  the  little  girl  bent  over  her  for 
a  parting  embrace.    *  *  It  is  cold  and  stormy. ' ' 

**It  's  getting  colder  every  minute,''  was  the 
answer.  **If  I  go  at  all,  I  must  go  now.  I  '11 
take  the  sorrel  and  ride  fast.  And  I  '11  be  back 
before  you  know  it."  She  kissed  her  mother 
tenderly  and  hastened  from  the  house. 

When  she  led  her  horse  out  of  the  bam  and 
mounted  at  a  nail-keg  near  the  tool-house,  she 
saw  that  her  start  had  been  delayed  too  long 
and  that  she  was  threatened  with  a  drenching. 
The  air  was  rapidly  growing  more  chill,  and 
northward  the  sky  was  streaked  in  long,  slant- 
ing lines  with  a  downfall  that  was  advancing 
toward  the  farm.  She  gave  no  thought  to  de- 
ferring her  trip,  however,  but  sprang  into  the 
saddle,  and  instead  of  taking  the  road  leading 
through  the  corn-shocks,  started  across  the 
fields  toward  the  carnelian  bluff. 

To  her  dismay,  her  short  cut  resulted  only  in 
a  loss  of  time.  When  she  passed  through  the 
cottonwoods  to  the  barley-field  beyond,  the 
ground,  still  soaked  from  the  recent  rain,  be- 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  279 

came  so  soft  that  the  sorrel  sank  to  his  knees 
at  every  step.  He  began  to  plunge  excitedly, 
and  she  guided  him  to  the  left,  away  from  the 
timothy  meadow,  to  a  firmer  foothold  on  the 
edge  of  the  corn-field.  It  brought  her  out  upon 
the  prairie  at  the  western  base  of  the  hill. 

As  she  crossed  the  southern  slope,  setting 
her  horse  into  a  run  with  her  whip,  she  chanced 
to  glance  up  toward  the  summit,  and  her  eyes 
met  an  unfamiliar  object.  The  next  moment, 
despite  her  solicitude  for  her  mother,  the  on- 
coming storm  and  the  long  road  ahead,  she 
reined  him  in  so  abruptly  that  he  sat  back  upon 
his  haunches,  and  then  urged  him  up  the  in- 
cline to  where,  in  place  of  the  usual  pile  of 
stones,  was  a  low,  dark  mound  of  earth  with  a 
pipe-stone  cross  at  its  head. 

Halted  beside  the  mound,  her  curiosity 
changed  to  sudden  awe;  for,  leaning  from  her 
horse,  she  read  aloud  a  word  that  imparted 
painful  knowledge  carefully  kept  from  her  for 
almost  fourteen  years,— a  word  that  was  chis- 
eled deep  into  the  polished  face  of  the  cross : 

FATHEB 

Looking  down  thus,  for  the  first  time,  at  the 
uncovered  grave,  no  feeling  of  grief  succeeded 
her  surprise  and  wonder.  But  instantly  the 
thought  came  that  it  was  here,  in  happy  igno- 


280    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

ranee  of  tlie  meaning  of  the  pile,  that  every 
spring  and  summer  she  had  sat  to  watch  the 
big  brothers  at  work  in  the  fields,  the  gophers, 
the  birds,  the  herd  in  the  slough  below ;  to  think 
over  her  baby  problems  and  sorrows;  or  to 
build  castles  from  a  beloved  book.  She  read 
the  chiseled  word  again,  softly  and  reverently, 
then  backed  the  sorrel  away  and  once  more 
rode  on  rapidly,  making  for  the  railroad  and 
sitting  her  horse  with  the  tense  erectness  of  a 
trooper  on  parade. 

All  at  once,  a  little  way  out  on  the  prairie,  a 
terror  seized  her,  and  she  began  to  lash  the  sor- 
rel with  all  her  might.  The  black  hillock  be- 
hind, with  its  graven  head-mark,  had  borne  to 
her  heart  a  new  fear  that  perhaps  her  mother, 
too,  would  soon  sleep  upon  the  hillside.  She 
put  the  thought  of  her  father  away,  and  cen- 
tered her  efforts  on  reaching  the  station  and 
the  doctor.  As  she  galloped  at  breakneck 
speed,  the  damp  wind  swept  her  face,  cutting 
it  sharply,  and  whipped  out  her  horse's  mane 
and  tail  till  they  fluttered  on  a  level  with  the 
saddle. 

At  the  track  she  ceased  striking  the  sorrel 
and  let  him  fall  into  a  slow,  steady  canter.  The 
downpour  was  near  now,  sweeping  south  in 
the  strong  grasp  of  a  squall  to  cross  her  path. 
She  could  see  that  its  front  was  a  sheet  not  of 
rain,  but  of  driving  hail  that  rebounded  high 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  281 

from  the  dry  grass.  She  crouched  in  her  seat 
and  pulled  her  hat  far  down  to  shield  her  face. 

Before  the  sorrel  made  another  quarter  of  a 
mile,  the  hailstones  had  passed  the  ties  and 
were  kicking  up  the  soft  dirt  of  the  embank- 
ment like  a  volley  of  shrapnel.  When  they 
moved  their  fire  forward  to  the  wagon-road, 
they  almost  hurled  the  little  girl  from  her  sad- 
dle. She  cried  out  in  agony  as  the  icy  bullets 
cleft  the  air  and  pounded  her  cruelly  on  head 
and  shoulders.  A  stone  the  size  of  a  wild 
duck^s  egg  split  the  skin  of  her  rein-hand,  and 
she  dropped  the  bridle  and  let  the  sorrel  go  at 
random.  Squealing  shrilly  whenever  a  missile 
reached  his  tender  ears,  he  stayed  in  the  road, 
but  stopped  running,  and  whirled  in  a  circle  to 
avoid  his  punishment.  The  little  girl,  though 
she  flinched  under  the  shower,  remained  on  his 
back  grittily  and  waited  until  the  fall  thinned 
and  suddenly  ended. 

Wounded  from  head  to  foot,  she  continued 
her  journey  over  a  road  deep  with  hail.  When 
the  station  came  in  sight,  she  stopped  to  wipe 
the  blood  from  a  hurt  on  her  cheek  and  to  wind 
her  handkerchief  around  her  injured  hand. 
Then  she  raced  through  town  and  left  her  mes- 
sage at  the  doctor's  door. 

The  doctor  hitched  up  his  buggy  and,  accom- 
panied by  his  wife,  set  off  for  the  farm  behind 
the  little  girl,  who  at  times  rode  anxiously  far 


282    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

in  the  lead,  and,  again,  drew  up  and  trotted  be- 
side the  vehicle  to  ask  him  to  travel  faster. 
But  when  the  farm-house  was  neared,  she 
could  not  bear  to  lag  any  longer,  and  gave  the 
sorrel  the  bit.  As  she  passed  the  carnelian 
bluff,  she  skirted  it  well,  though  she  could  not 
see  the  mound  or  the  cross.  It  had  grown  dark 
and  they  were  shrouded  in  stormy  shadows. 
But  she  kept  her  eyes  continually  in  that  di- 
rection, and  talked  to  the  horse  to  quiet  a  ner- 
vous throbbing  in  her  breast  that  she  did  not 
admit  to  herself.  At  the  bam  she  unbuckled 
the  saddle  and  the  bridle  outside  the  door,  let 
the  sorrel  trot  in  alone,  and  ran  toward  the 
kitchen. 

When  the  doctor  completed  his  diagnosis 
that  night,  he  told  the  little  girPs  mother  only 
what  she  had  long  known:  that  she  might  live 
to  see  her  daughter  a  grown  woman  and  her 
sons  old  men ;  that  she  might  pass  away  before 
the  end  of  another  week,  or  another  day.  The 
little  girl  was  not  in  the  room  to  hear  him,  and 
on  returning  later  to  the  canopied  bed,  neither 
her  mother  nor  the  neighbor  woman  repeated 
his  words.  He  was  gone  again,  leaving  only  a 
few  pellets  to  check  a  possible  sinking-spell. 
For  there  was  nothing  else  that  could  be  done 
at  the  farm-house— except  wait  and  hope. 

But,  as  if  she  divined  by  instinct  what  there 
was  to  fear,  the  little  girl  stoutly  refused  to 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  283 

leave  her  mother  that  night  and  seek  rest. 
After  prevailing  upon  the  neighbor  woman  to 
lie  down  on  the  lounge  close  by,  she  sat  on  the 
carpet  beside  the  bed,  weary  but  unswerving, 
and  reached  up  every  little  while  to  touch  a 
hand,  or  rose  to  listen  to  the  spasmodic  beating 
of  the  tortured  heart. 

At  midnight  her  mother  awoke  and  asked 
for  nourishment.  Having  eaten  and  drunk,  she 
motioned  the  little  girl  to  a  seat  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed  and  began  to  talk,  slowly  at  the  begin- 
ning but  more  hurriedly  toward  the  last,  as  if 
she  were  freeing  herself  of  something  long  ago 
thought  out  and  long  delayed  in  the  saying. 

*  *  I  Ve  been  thinking  of  the  fields  and  hedges 
of  dear  old  England,''  she  whispered.  **I  can 
see  them  so  plainly  to-night.  I  have  just  been 
there  in  my  dreams,  I  think;  and  I  have  come 
back  to  tell  you  how  beautiful  they  are.  Of 
course  the  plains  are  beautiful,  too,— beautiful 
but  lonely.  England  is  dotted  with  homes,  and 
there  are  trees  everywhere,  and  flowers  so  many 
months  of  the  year.  Oh,  one  never  could  feel 
lonely  there." 

She  turned  her  face  away  and  seemed  to  be 
asleep.  But  presently  she  came  back  to  the 
little  girl  and  took  her  hand  with  a  smile. 

** Years  ago,"  she  went  on,  ^^when  I  was  a 
hearty,  happy  girl,  only  two  or  three  years 
older  than  you  are  now,  x)et  lamb,  your  father 


284    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE   GIRL 

and  I  came  West  and  took  np  this  farm. 
Hardly  anybody  lived  here  in  those  days. 
They  were  a  few  squatters;  but  they  either 
trapped  in  the  winter  and  went  away  during 
the  summer,  or  hunted  and  farmed  in  the  sum- 
mer and  left  in  the  fall.  So  life  was  very  quiet, 
quieter  even  than  it  is  now,  except  that  there 
were  Indians  here  by  the  hundreds.  They  stole 
from  us  by  night  and  shot  our  stock,  and  would 
have  murdered  us  only  that  they  could  get 
more  out  of  us  by  letting  us  live.  They  came 
by  in  processions,  put  up  their  wigwams  in  our 
very  yard,  and  ate  up  everything  we  had  in  the 
house.  We  dared  not  see  the  wrong  they  did. 
I  was  often  alone  when  they  came,  and  I  always 
wondered  if  that  would  not  be  the  last  of  me 
and  my  little  boys. 

*  ^  But,  though  here  and  there  men  and  women 
and  even  little  babies  were  tomahawked,  we 
were  never  harmed,  for  some  reason;  and,  as 
the  years  went  by,  people  began  to  come  and 
settle  near  us.  Then  the  post  was  established, 
and  we  could  go  to  church  once  a  summer.  I 
went  with  the  boys,  because  some  one  always 
had  to  remain  home  to  watch  the  farm.  That 
is  why  I  never  visited  a  town  the  first  ten  years 
after  we  settled  here.  Then  you  came,— just 
a  few  days— before— we  lost— your— father.'' 

The  little  girl  smoothed  back  her  mother's 
hair  lovingly.     The  time  had  come  to  tell  of 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  285 

her  discovery  on  the  bluff.  *  ^  I  Ve  seen  it, '  ^  she 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

Her  mother  understood.  **We  wanted  you 
to  find  it  out  by  yourself/'  she  answered. 
**The  boys  took  away  the  stones  and  put  up 
the  cross  the  night  before  they  left.''  She 
sighed  and  then  went  on: 

**I  have  been  thinking  about  you  to-night— 
about  your  future— in  recalling  my  years  here 
on  the  plains.  I  am  no  longer  young,  pet  lamb ; 
I  was  never  very  strong.  I  may  not  always  be 
with  you."  Her  voice  broke  a  little.  She 
tightened  her  grasp  of  the  little  girPs  fingers. 

^*I  do  not  worry  about  the  boys.  They  will 
marry  and  settle  down  among  our  good  neigh- 
bors. But  you,  my  little  girl,  what  will  you  do  ? 
Not  stay,  I  hope,  hoeing  and  herding  and  work- 
ing your  life  out  in  the  kitchen,  with  nothing 
to  brighten  the  days.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
that.  I  lived  on  here  after  your  father  was 
taken  because  I  feared  the  responsibility  of 
raising  my  boys  in  a  great,  strange  city ;  and  I 
dreaded  the  thought  of  leaving  your  father's 
grave.  But  now  I  often  wonder  if  I  have  acted 
for  the  best.  Selfish  in  my  grief  and  loss,  have 
I  not  deprived  the  boys  of  the  advantages  they 
should  have  had?  For  you,  it  is  not  yet  too 
late. 

**  Whether  I  am  taken  from  you  or  not,  I 
want  you  to  leave  the  prairie  and  spend  the 


286    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

rest  of  your  life  where  you  can  enjoy  the  best 
things  that  life  offers— music  and  pictures  and 
travel,  and  the  friendship  of  cultivated  people. 
In  twenty  years— perhaps  less,  for  the  plains 
are  changing  swiftly— all  these  level,  fertile 
miles  will  be  covered  with  homes.  Every 
quarter-section  will  hold  a  house,  and  there 
will  be  chimneys  in  sight  in  every  direction. 
Churches  and  better  schools  will  follow.  The 
roads  will  be  planted  with  trees.  There  will  be 
fences  about  the  fields,  and  no  Indians  to  thieve 
and  kill.  And  this  valley,  the  *Jim,'  or  the 
Missouri,  will  not  be  the  edge  of  civilization, 
for  the  frontier  will  have  moved  far  to  the  west. 
**And  yet,  though  I  can  see  it  all  coming,  I 
am  not  willing  for  you  to  wait  for  it  and  spend 
your  young  womanhood  here.  One  woman  in 
a  family  is  enough  to  sacrifice  to  the  suffering 
and  drudgery  of  frontier  life.  So  I  want  you 
to  go  East,  to  go  where  the  sweetest  and  best 
influences  can  reach  you.  The  prairie  has 
given  you  health.  It  has  never  given  you  hap- 
piness. Your  life,  like  that  of  every  other  child 
on  the  plains,  has  had  few  joys  and  many  little 
tragedies.  They  say  the  city  child  ages  fast; 
but  do  they  ever  think  of  the  wearing  sameness 
and  starving  of  heart  that  puts  years  on  the 
country  child?  Ah!  those  who  are  born  and 
bred  on  the  edge  of  things  give  more  than  the 
work  of  their  hands  to  the  country's  building." 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  287 

They  sat  in  silence  a  long  time,  their  hands 
clasped.  Then  the  little  girl  kissed  her  mother 
softly.  **I  want  to  go,  mother, '^  she  said,  with 
shining  eyes.  *^I  want  to  go  away  to  school, 
and  you  must  go  with  me.'' 

Her  mother  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

**  *I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee, '  *' 
she  breathed  at  last.  And  not  till  long  after- 
ward, when  tears  had  worn  the  first  keen  edge 
from  her  grief,  did  the  little  girl  know  the  full 
meaning  of  the  promise. 

**Pull  back  the  curtains  from  the  eastern 
windows,''  said  her  mother;  **I  want  to  see  the 
sky.    Is  the  night  clear  ? ' ' 

*  *  The  stars  are  out,  mother. ' ' 

*  *  Ah,  I  love  the  stars ! ' ' 

**  Are  they  the  same  ones  that  I  '11  see  when— 
when— I  'm  away  from  here?" 

**The  very  same,  pet  lamb." 

**You  and  I  will  watch  them  and  think  of 
that,  mother." 

The  neighbor  woman  turned  on  the  lounge, 
and  they  fell  into  silence  again.  The  little  girl 
remained  standing  at  a  window,  her  face 
pressed  close  to  the  glass. 

As  she  waited  there,  the  whole  east  began 
gradually  to  spring  into  flame.  The  sky  blazed 
as  ruddily  as  if  a  great  fire  were  just  beyond 
the  horizon  and  racing  to  leap  it  and  sweep 
across  upon  the  farm.    A  broad  fan  of  light, 


288    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

roseate  at  its  pivot  and  radiating  in  shafts  of 
yellow  and  red,  was  rising  and  paling  the  stars 
with  its  shining  edge.  Wider  and  wider  it 
grew,  until  from  north  to  south,  and  almost  as 
far  up  as  the  zenith,  were  thrust  its  shining 
sticks.  Then  out  of  the  cold  mist  floating  over 
the  distant  Sioux  showed  a  copper  segment  of 
the  full  moon,  which  rose  into  sight  and 
careened  slowly  heavenward,  lighting  up  the 
wide  plains,  glimmering  on  the  placid  water  of 
the  sloughs,  and  shining  full  into  the  face  of 
the  dreaming  little  girl. 

Only  the  neighbor  woman  was  at  the  farm- 
house next  day  to  comfort  the  little  girl  and 
help  her  through  the  sad  hours.  There  was  no 
sign  of  the  pig- wagon  all  morning,  and  as  the 
afternoon  passed  slowly  away  the  little  girl 
ceased  to  strain  her  eyes  along  the  road  leading 
to  the  school-house,  and  never  left  her  mother's 
side.  It  was  the  neighbor  woman  who,  not  dar- 
ing to  leave  the  room  even  to  do  the  chores 
about  the  bam  and  coops,  looked  south  every 
few  moments  with  the  hope  that  the  biggest 
brother  would  return  before  it  was  too  late. 

As  the  day  drew  toward  its  close  the  sun, 
which  had  been  lurking  sulkily  behind  the 
clouds,  came  out  brightly  and  shone  into  the 
sitting-room,  where  its  beams  lay  across  the 
foot  of  the  canopied  bed  like  a  warm  coverlet. 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  289 

The  room  was  robbed  of  its  gloom,  and  the  lit- 
tle girPs  mother  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
about  her,  long  and  thoughtfully,  as  one  gazes 
upon  a  loved  scene  that  is  drifting  from  sight. 

The  walls  were  hung  with  spatter-work  that 
the  biggest  brother  had  done,  and  with  photo- 
graphs and  magazine  pictures  in  splint  frames. 
Over  the  front  door  was  tacked  the  first  yarn 
motto  that  the  little  girl  had  ever  worked.  It 
was  faded,  but  her  mother,  though  her  eyes 
were  dimming,  could  read  the  uneven  line: 
*  *  God  Bless  Our  Home.  ^  ^  The  new  cane-seated 
chairs  were  set  about  against  the  walls,  and  a 
bright  blue  cover  hid  the  round,  oak  center- 
table.  The  eldest  brother's  violin  lay  in  its 
case  on  the  organ  that  had  come  into  the  house 
the  month  before  when  the  wheat  was  sold. 
Up  on  the  clock-shelf  was  a  Dresden  shepherd 
in  stately  pose  before  his  dainty  shepherdess. 
The  curtains  on  the  windows  hung  white  and 
soft  to  the  carpet. 

Presently  the  mother  asked  to  be  raised  on 
her  pillow,  and  the  neighbor  woman  and  the 
little  girl  turned  the  bed  so  that  she  could  look 
out  of  the  windows  at  the  setting  sun. 

The  western  heavens  rioted  in  a  fuller  beauty 
that  afternoon  than  had  the  eastern  half  at 
moon-rise  the  night  before.  As  the  sun  sank 
behind  the  clouds  piled  high  upon  the  horizon, 
it  colored  them  in  gorgeous  array  and  threw 

19 


290    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

them  out  in  wonderful  shapes  and  sharp  relief 
against  a  clearing  sky.  Castles  towered  on  one 
side,  vast  turrets  standing  forth  above  their 
walls;  on  the  other,  banks  of  tinted  vapor 
formed  a  huge  cloud-seat. 

The  little  girl,  calm,  though  her  heart  was 
torn  with  pain,  looked  out  with  her  mother 
upon  the  dying  glories.  She  had  often  before 
in  her  life  seen  that  changing  panorama  which, 
thrown  up  one  moment,  melted  into  nothing- 
ness the  next.  At  night  she  had  learned  to 
kneel  with  her  face  that  way,— to  the  great  bil- 
lows that  always  seemed  to  her  a  seat  in  the 
sky,  that  were  always  something  more  than 
mere  vapor.  She  could  pray  better  when,  long 
after  sundown,  they  hung  above  the  horizon, 
robbed  of  their  colors  but  still  glorious.  And 
there  had  grown  up  in  her  mind  the  comfort- 
ing thought  that  on  those  very  billows  was 
God's  throne,  and  from  them,  at  sunset,  He 
looked  down  upon  that  part  of  the  earth  that 
was  sinking  into  the  night,  and  blessed  it  and 
told  it  farewell.  She  even  thought  she  could 
see  His  face  in  the  heavens  sometimes,— His 
flowing  white  robes,  and  the  amethyst  stool 
upon  which  He  rested  his  feet. 

As  the  sun  dropped  behind  the  prairie,  the 
cloud-throne  loomed  forth  against  the  blue 
more  vividly  than  ever.  The  little  girl  kept 
her  eyes  dumbly  upon  it,  watching  the  crimson 


ANOTHER  MOUND  ON  THE  BLUFF  291 

and  gold  slowly  fade  to  royal  purple  where  the 
King  sat. 

*  *  Remember  what  I  said,  pet  lamb, ' '  her  mo- 
ther whispered.  She  could  not  see,  yet  she  was 
still  holding  the  little  girl 's  hands  firmly.  * '  Re- 
member what  I  told  you  to  do. ' ' 

The  little  girl  could  not  answer;  she  could 
only  bow  her  head  in  reply.  Tearless,  she 
waited  beside  the  bed,  where,  for  the  second 
time.  Life  was  striving  with  Death,— and  was 
to  lose.  There  was  no  sound  in  the  room  until 
there  came  a  last  whisper,  **Pray.'' 

The  little  girl  slipped  down  from  the  edge  of 
the  bed  to  the  carpet  and  knelt  toward  the  west. 
A  collie  trotted  up  to  her  and  licked  her  cheek. 
She  put  him  gently  aside.  She  was  trying  to 
think  of  something  to  say  in  behalf  of  her  mo- 
ther to  Him  who,  even  now,  was  taking  His 
farewell  look.  At  last  a  thought  came  to  her, 
and  her  lips  moved  to  speak  aloud  the  only  pe- 
tition she  could  think  of: 

**0  God,''  she  pleaded,  raising  her  eyes  to 
where  the  seat,  marvelous  in  purple  and  burn- 
ing gold,  loomed  high  over  the  prairie  against 
the  sky,  *  *  please  be  good  to  my  mother. ' ' 

And  as  she  knelt  there,  strong  in  her  faith 
and  brave  in  her  grief,  a  messenger  came  down 
from  the  western  cloud- throne— a  messenger  of 
peace  from  the  God  of  the  little  girl. 


XVIII 
THE  LITTLE  TEACHER 

WITH  one  of  the  biggest  brother's  checked 
jumpers  pinned  across  her  breast,  and 
with  suds  spattered  up  her  bare  arms  to  her 
shoulders,  the  little  girl  was  valiantly  attacking 
the  weekly  wash.  A  clothes-basket  at  her  feet 
was  piled  with  white  garments  awaiting  the 
bluing.  The  tub  was  full  of  colored  things 
that  were  receiving  a  second  rub.  Out  of  doors, 
on  a  line  stretched  between  the  comer  of  the 
kitchen  and  the  high  seat  of  the  big  farm  wagon, 
flapped  the  drying  sheets  and  pillow-cases. 
Breakfast  was  cleared  away,  the  beds  were 
made,  the  sitting-room  was  tidied,  and  it  was 
not  eight  o'clock,  yet  she  was  nearly  done. 
And  while  she  worked  steadily  to  finish,  the 
boiler  on  the  stove  behind  her  kept  time  with 
its  clanking  cover  to  the  grating  tune  of  her 
washboard. 

The  little  girl  no  longer  had  to  make  use  of 
a  three-legged  milking-stool  in  order  to  reach 
the  tub.  Instead,  she  stood  square  on  the  floor. 
For  she  was  tall  for  her  scant  fifteen  years, 
having  grown  so  rapidly  in  the  last  twelve 

292 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  293 

months  that  she  now  came  up  to  the  youngest 
brother's  chin,  and  required  fully  ten  yards 
of  cloth  for  a  dress.  But  she  still  wore  her  hair 
down  her  back,  and,  as  she  bobbed  over  the 
clothes  to  give  them  their  added  drubbing, 
shiny  strands  shook  themselves  loose  from  their 
curly,  captive  neighbors  and  waved  damply 
against  her  flushing  cheeks,  till  she  looked  like 
a  gay  yellow  dandelion  a-sway  in  a  gusty  wind. 

When  the  last  red  shirt  was  wrung  from  the 
water,  she  began  to  dip  bucketfuls  and  empty 
them  on  the  sloping  ground  at  the  farther  side 
of  the  storm-cellar,  singing  blithely  as  she  hur- 
ried back  and  forth.  She  was  so  intent  on  her 
carrying  that  she  did  not  see  a  horseman  who 
was  turning  in  at  the  ash  lane,  his  face  eagerly 
lifted  to  the  windows  of  the  farm-house.  Even 
when,  having  tied  his  mount  at  the  block  in 
front,  he  rapped  on  the  sitting-room  door,  she 
did  not  hear  him.  Finally,  when,  receiving 
no  answer,  he  walked  around  the  corner  to  the 
entry,  she  stepped  out  with  her  last  pail  and 
came  face  to  face  with  him. 

Joy  leaped  into  his  eyes  as  he  dropped  his 
whip  and  lifted  his  hat;  something  more  than 
surprise  lighted  hers  as  she  let  her  suds  fall 
and  spill  over  the  stone  step.  Then,  stam- 
mering a  welcome,  she  surrendered  her  hands 
to  the  glad  grasp  of  the  colonel 's  son. 

*  *  My !  it  's  good  to  see  you ! ' '  he  cried,  look- 


294    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GlRL 

ing  at  her  with  the  old  frankness.  He  stepped 
back  a  little  to  measure  her  from  top  to  toe. 
**And  have  n't  you  shot  up!^' 

*^Like  a  ragweed/*  she  laughed,  taking  him 
into  the  kitchen,  where  she  brought  him  a  chair 
from  the  sitting-room. 

*^You  're  a  full-fledged  housekeeper,  too,'' 
he  declared.  '^How  do  you  like  the  change 
from  herding?" 

*^0h,  I  have  n't  herded  much  for  a  long 
while,"  she  replied  proudly,  as  she  refilled  her 
tub  from  a  barrel  in  the  corner  that  had  been 
drawn  by  the  biggest  brother;  *^I  helped 
mother  in  the  house  all  last  summer."  She 
grew  sober  suddenly,  and  the  colonel 's  son  has- 
tened to  change  the  subject. 

*^You  're  looking  awfully  well,"  he  assured 
her. 

*^I  've  worn  off  some  of  my  tail,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

**Well,  that  's  partly  it,"  he  said,  and  his 
glance  was  boyishly  eloquent. 

She  fell  to  rubbing  again,  and  he  watched 
her  admiringly,  noticing  how  trim  was  her  black 
dress,  and  how  spotless  were  the  lace  at  her 
throat  and  the  ribbon  that  bound  back  her  hair. 

^'I  don't  believe  you  can  guess  where  I  'm 
started  for,"  he  said,  after  a  moment  of  si- 
lence. 

She  straightened  up  to  rest  her  back  and 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  295 

looked  out  through  an  open  window.  *^I 
thought  you  were  just  coming  here." 

* '  No. '  ^  He  watched  her  for  a  sign  of  pleased 
astonishment  when  he  continued,  **I  'm  on  my 
way  to  St.  Paul." 

She  turned  swiftly,  her  eyes  open  wide. 
^^ College?"  she  questioned  in  a  low,  strained 
voice. 

** Nearly  that;  I  shall  prepare  for  West 
Point.  The  bishop  has  chosen  a  school  for 
me." 

Her  eyes  went  back  to  the  window,  but  a 
mist  was  over  them  now,  and  she  could  not 
see  the  square  of  cottonwoods  and  barley 
framed  by  the  sash. 

**I  left  the  Wyoming  post  a  week  ago,"  he 
went  on.  *  *  Father 's  orderly  brought  my  trunk 
to  Chamberlain,  and  I  rode  down  from  there 
to  the  reservation— and  then  came  here.  I 
shall  take  the  train  at  the  station.  It  's  changed 
to  morning  time,  I  believe,  and  goes  by  about 
10:30." 

She  seemed  not  to  hear  him.  Her  face  was 
still  turned  away,  and  she  was  murmuring  to 
herself.  ^^The  bishop!"  she  repeated;  ^*the 
bishop ! ' '  All  at  once  she  ran  out  of  the  room. 
When  she  returned,  she  held  a  tin  spice-box  in 
her  hand.  She  took  a  letter  from  it  and  held 
it  toward  the  colonel's  son.  *^Read  this,"  she 
said.    **It  's  from  the  bishop  to  mother." 


296    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

He  spread  out  the  written  sheet,  which  was 
dated  two  years  back,  and  read  it  aloud. 

*^  ^Whenever  that  spirited  little  maid  of 
yours  is  ready  to  take  up  the  studies  she  cannot 
enjoy  where  you  are,  send  her  to  me.  I  will 
get  her  ready  for  the  college  she  dreams  about, 
and,  if  God  takes  you  from  her  soon,  as  you 
fear,  and  as  I  pray  not  (though  His  will  be 
done!),  I  will  watch  over  her  like  a  father.'  " 

When  he  finished,  he  looked  up  at  her,  his 
face  fairly  sparkling.  **0f  course  you  '11  go," 
he  said. 

^*No,"  she  answered  sadly,  shaking  her 
head;  *^I  can't  go.  I  have  n't  any  money. 
The  boys  have  just  bought  some  land  that  joins 
ours.  If  I  left,  they  'd  have  to  pay  my  ex- 
penses and  then  hire  some  one  to  take  my 
place.  So  they  would  n't  be  able  to  pay  for 
the  land.  I  shall  have  to  wait  till  I  can  earn 
something  myself. ' ' 

**It  's  a  shame!"  declared  the  colonel's  son. 
**  Because  if  you  work  here,  how  can  you 
earn  anything?" 

She  shook  her  head  again.  '*I  don't  know. 
,  Only  I  shall  go  some  day.  I  'm— I  'm  glad 
you  We  going,  though." 

**But  it  's  been  more  your  hope  than  mine. 
I  'm  sorry  it  is  n't  different— that  we  are  n't 
just  changed  around.  I  don't  care  to  study 
much,  anyway.    I  want  to  be  a  soldier,  like 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  297 

father.  I  don't  see  why  I  should  study  so  much 
for  that.  I  Ve  been  everywhere  with  him 
after  Indians.  I  wish  I  could  go  on  at  it  with- 
out stopping  to  study. '  * 

**I  don't  know  what  I  want  to  be.  I  only 
know  that  I  love  to  read  and  study.  If  I  could 
read  and  study  I  would  n't  mind  living  on  the 
plains. ' ' 

**You  would  n't?"  cried  the  colonel's  son. 
**Why,  maybe  I  shall  always  have  to  live  here, 
and—"  He  stopped  in  confusion,  and  got  up 
hastily,  hat  in  hand.  *^Good-by,"  he  said. 
He  stepped  toward  her,  his  head  lowered  bash- 
fully.   She  wiped  her  hands  on  the  jumper. 

**Do  you  have  to  go?"  she  asked.  *^ Can't 
you  stay  and  have  dinner  ?  My  brothers  would 
love  to  see  you.  And  I  'd  cook  you  something 
nice. ' ' 

*  *  No, ' '  he  replied,  a  little  agitated.  * '  I  won 't 
more  than  catch  my  train."  He  shook  hands 
and  started  out.  At  the  door  he  glanced  back, 
and  was  startled  at  her  colorless  face.  ' '  What 
is  it  ? "  he  pleaded,  coming  back  to  her  side. 

She  sat  down  on  a  bench  by  the  window,  the 
jumper  crushed  in  her  fingers.  ^*0h,  I  want 
to  go !  I  want  to  go ! "  she  said,  her  voice  deep 
with  pain  and  longing.  ^*I  'm  lonesome  here. 
I  miss  mother  terribly.  I  'm  always  listening 
for  her ;  I  'm  always  getting  up  and  going  into 
the  next  room  as  if  she  were  there.    And  then 


298    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

I  remember— ' '  She  broke  down  and  wept,  all 
her  pride  gone. 

**Don%  don%''  whispered  the  colonel's  son, 
tenderly.  ^^It  '11  all  come  out  right.  Next 
year,  when  I  'm  on  my  way  back,  I  '11  stop,  and 
we  '11  talk  it  over  again.  That  won't  be  long. 
Maybe  something  will  turn  up,  too,  between 
now  and  then." 

** Maybe,"  she  said  hopelessly.  But  she 
checked  her  tears  and  rose  to  follow  him  out. 
At  the  mounting-block  they  shook  hands  again. 
Then  he  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  galloped 
through  the  yard  toward  the  north. 

**A  year  is  n't  long,"  she  whispered  to  her- 
self, as  she  watched  him  disappear  in  the  corn, 
and  she  went  bravely  back  to  her  tub. 

A  MONTH  went  by,— a  month  of  dull  routine 
that  was  enlivened  only  by  the  harvesters.  Day 
after  day  she  plodded  through  a  heavy  pro- 
gram of  breakfast,  dinner,  supper,  bed-making, 
sweeping,  and  the  care  of  the  chickens  and  pigs ; 
her  calendar  was  the  added  duties  that  each 
morning  entailed  of  washing,  ironing,  mending, 
scrubbing,  and  baking.  The  promise  of  the 
colonel's  son  came  to  cheer  her  sometimes;  but 
it  was  a  peep  into  the  tin  spice-box  each  even- 
ing that  heartened  her  most.  For  to  her  the 
bishop's  letter  was  the  single  link  between  the 
prairie  and  the  longed-for  campus. 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  299 

Then  one  afternoon,  as  she  sat  churning,  the 
dasher  in  one  hand,  in  the  other  a  spoon  that 
busily  returned  the  cream  frothing  from  the 
hole  of  the  cover,  there  came  a  second  tap  at 
the  front  door.  This  time  she  heard,  and  ran 
through  the  sitting-room,  still  grasping  the 
spoon,  to  invite  the  new  settler  to  enter. 

He  tramped  in  with  a  jocund  greeting,  sat 
down  on  the  kitchen  floor  in  a  path  of  sunlight, 
and  leaned  against  the  wall,  smoking.  *^Go 
right  on— go  right  on, ' '  he  urged.  *  *  Like  to  see 
you  trouncing  the  cream.  And  what  I  've  got 
to  say  won't  sour  if 

She  went  on  with  her  butter-making,  the 
tall,  wooden  vessel  firmly  held  between  her  feet. 

*  ^  Had  a  meeting  of  the  school  committee  yes- 
terday,'*  he  began,  puffing  at  his  pipe  slowly. 
*^We  talked  over  hunting  up  another  teacher 
to  take  the  place  of  the  one  the  Dutchman 
hired. ' ' 

*^She  is  n't  coming? '*  asked  the  little  girl. 

**No,  she  is  n't  coming;  she  's  going  to  take 
a  school  near  Sioux  Falls,"  he  answered 
crossly.  **I  'm  tired  of  these  teachers  that 
pretend  to  the  little  schools  away  off  nowhere 
that  they  're  ready  to  take  them,  when  all  the 
while  they  've  got  their  eyes  peeled  for  a  school 
near  town.  So  I  've  proposed  to  the  committee 
that  we  get  some  one  about  here  to  take  the 
school— some  one  that  won't  fail  us,  and  that 


300    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

can  handle  my  young  ones,  the  two  little  chaps 
from  the  West  .Fork,  and  one  or  two  of  the 
Dutchman's.  That  's  about  all  the  scholars 
there  '11  be  this  term.  What  do  you  think  about 
itr' 

**I— I  should  think  it  would  be  all  right,''  she 
faltered,  churning  so  hard  that  the  froth 
climbed  up  the  dasher,  carrying  pieces  of  fresh 
butter  with  it  and  leaving  them  midway  on  the 
handle. 

**I  should  think  so,  too,"  said  the  new  set- 
tler; *^and  that  's  about  the  way  we  fixed  it 
up.  And— well,  we  thought  we  'd  offer  it  to 
you. ' ' 

She  got  up,  her  color  coming  and  going 
swiftly,  and  stood  before  him.  **To  me?"  she 
asked.    *^Do  you  mean  it?" 

He  assented  by  a  nod. 

**0h,  it  's  too  good  to  be  true,"  she  went 
on.  *^I  can  hardly  believe  it."  She  began  to 
laugh  tearfully.  **You  see,  I  've— I  've— " 
Then,  at  sight  of  the  braid  lying  over  her  shoul- 
der, she  put  up  her  hands  and  gathered  her 
hair  into  a  knot.    ^*I  '11  take  it,"  she  said. 

*^Glad  of  that,'^  answered  the  new  settler, 
cheerily,  and,  with  a  glance  at  the  handle  of  the 
dasher,  ^*I  think  that  butter  's  come." 

It  was  just  a  week  later  when  she  rode  south 
and  took  charge  of  the  school.     The  day  was 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  301 

full  of  joy  and  misgivings.  She  was  happy 
when,  with  one  of  the  new  settler's  babies  be- 
fore the  chart,  she  could  point  out  the  very 
lines  the  Yankton  man  had  shown  her,  and  hear 
the  little  one  striving  to  lisp  and  learn  them. 
She  was  filled  with  doubts  when,  having  dis- 
missed a  class,  the  pupils  looked  back  at  her 
from  their  seats,  some  mockingly,  she  thought, 
others  with  laughing  eyes  that  challenged  hers. 
But  at  four  o'clock,  when,  at  the  tap  of  the 
hand-bell,  they  cleared  their  desks  and  sat 
straight  with  folded  arms,  they  seemed  to  have 
gotten  over  the  novelty  of  her  supervision,  and 
marched  out,  with  good-bys  as  they  passed 
the  teacher's  table,  just  as  they  had  in  former 
terms.  She  rode  home,  feeling  that  her  work 
was  well  begun. 

The  first  six  weeks  of  the  term  passed  without 
incident.  There  had  sprung  up  a  complete 
understanding  between  her  and  the  children, 
and  her  affection  for  them  was  returned  with 
gratifying  respect.  Then,  one  Monday  morn- 
ing, there  entered  a  disturbing  element. 

A  Polish  woman,  whose  husband  had  moved 
his  family  down  from  Pierre  to  occupy  the 
Irishman's  shack,  came  to  the  school,  bringing 
her  son,  a  gawky,  hangdog  lad  of  twelve.  While 
she  recited  a  long  account  of  his  past  experi- 
ences with  teachers,  and  dictated  her  wishes  as 
to  his  treatment  by  the  little  girl,  he  acted  as 


302    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

interpreter.  When  she  finally  departed,  with 
admonitions  and  sidewise  wags  of  the  head,  he 
shuffled  defiantly  to  a  desk. 

He  occupied  his  first  hour  in  slyly  flipping 
wet-paper  wads  at  a  picture  of  Shakspere 
pinned  above  him  on  the  wall.  The  little  girl, 
who  was  well  versed  in  all  school  tricks  from 
her  years  of  sitting  in  a  rear  seat,  knew  what  he 
was  doing,  but  hesitated  to  speak  to  him.  At 
last,  seeing  that  he  was  attracting  the  attention 
of  all  the  other  children,  she  sent  him  to  the 
blackboard  to  copy  his  spelling  ten  times. 

By  ingenious  counting  he  soon  completed 
his  work,  and  then  began  to  draw  pipe-stem 
men  for  the  Dutchman's  youngest  to  giggle  at. 
He  was  sent  back  to  his  desk,  where  he  spent 
the  time  in  wriggling  his  ears. 

The  little  girl  saw  that  trouble  was  before 
her,— saw,  too,  that  her  position  would  be  im- 
periled if  she  failed  in  her  discipline.  That 
night,  when  the  biggest  brother  helped  her  to 
get  supper  and  make  the  beds,  she  shared  her 
fears  with  him. 

*^It  's  one  thing  to  get  a  school,"  she  said 
sorrpwfully,  as  he  tried  to  comfort  her;  **it  's 
another  to  keep  if 

But  next  day  she  called  the  pupils  to  order 
cheerfully. 

It  was  evident  that  the  young  Pole  had  been 
well  discussed  by  the  children.    They  watched 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  303 

him  constantly  to  see  what  new  prank  he  was 
preparing  for  their  entertainment.  He  swag- 
gered under  their  astonished  gaze,  and  inso- 
lently made  requests  aloud  without  raising  his 
hand  for  permission  to  speak.  Just  hefore 
recess,  upon  chancing  to  glance  his  way,  the  lit- 
tle girl  caught  him  tossing  a  note  over  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room. 

She  suddenly  came  to  a  halt  beside  his  desk, 
and  anger,  strange  and  almost  unreasonable, 
possessed  her.  It  flashed  into  her  mind  that  be- 
fore her,  ignorant,  slouchy,  indifferent,  was 
one  who,  by  his  mischief,  threatened  to  deprive 
her  of  what  her  mother  and  the  biggest  brother 
had  long  desired,  what  she  herself  yearned 
after  with  all  the  earnestness  of  her  soul. 
She  could  scarcely  refrain  from  attempting  to 
send  him  off  then  and  there!  She  trembled 
with  indignation.  Meeting  her  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment, he  saw  a  dangerous  glint  in  them,  and 
for  the  rest  of  the  morning  was  more  circum- 
spect. 

But  at  noon,  a  full  dinner,  a  lazy  hour,  and 
the  ill-concealed  admiration  of  the  other  chil- 
dren put  him  again  into  a  mean  mood.  He 
got  out  ©f  line  in  marching,  and  pulled  the 
hair  of  one  of  the  little  fellows  from  the  West 
Fork.  The  little  girl  passed  the  afternoon  with 
her  eyes  upon  him.  When  he  went  so  far  that 
the  school  was  interrupted,  she  walked  toward 


304    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

him  and  gave  him  some  task,  or  stayed  beside 
his  desk  while  she  was  hearing  a  class.  But 
though  in  a  measure  it  kept  him  in  subjection, 
her  power  over  the  others,  she  found,  was  be- 
ing woefully  lessened,  and  her  discipline  de- 
stroyed. At  dismissal  she  took  up  her  hat  and 
pail  with  a  weariness  that  was  not  physical,  but 
of  the  spirit,  and  rode  home,  bowed  and  silent. 

But,  unknown  to  her,  the  Polish  boy  defeated 
his  own  evil  ends  that  same  evening,  and  solved 
to  her  satisfaction,  and  to  that  of  the  com- 
mittee and  the  scholars,  the  question  of  her 
rule. 

He  was  sent  to  the  Swede 's  to  inquire  after  a 
turkey  that  his  mother  thought  had  strayed  up 
the  river  and  nested  near  the  reservation  road ; 
and,  in  asking  after  the  hen,  he  departed  from 
his  errand  long  enough  to  boast  to  the  Swede 
boy  of  his  fun  at  the  school-house.  The  latter 
listened  to  him  eagerly,  though  quietly,  grinned 
slyly  once  or  twice  during  the  story,  and  at  the 
close  of  it  remarked,  with  his  finger  on  his 
nose,  that  he  thought  he  had  better  go  back 
to  school  again  himself. 

The  following  morning,  when  she  entered, 
to  her  surprise,  the  little  girl  found  him  seated 
in  the  back  of  the  room,  his  lunch  in  a  news- 
paper beside  him,  his  books  in  a  strap  at  his 
feet.  *^Ay  kome  tow  laim  again,''  he  said, 
and  then  waited  until  she  assigned  him  a  desk. 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  305 

He  was  so  interested  in  the  little  girl  that, 
for  the  first  hour  after  school  was  called,  he 
forgot  to  watch  the  young  Pole.  Everywhere 
she  moved,  he  kept  his  eyes  upon  her.  If  she 
caught  his  glance,  she  saw  in  it  only  pride  and 
encouragement  and  was  content. 

But  the  young  Pole,  seeing  that  the  Swede 
boy  did  not  look  at  him,  became  piqued  at 
last  and  set  about  gaining  not  only  the  atten- 
tion of  the  new  pupil,  but  of  the  entire  school. 
He  rummaged  his  pockets  for  a  bean-shooter, 
and,  finding  one,  proceeded  to  let  the  dry  beans 
fly,  snapping  them  loudly  against  the  benches. 

The  anger,  resentment,  and  mortification  on 
the  little  girPs  face  at  his  audacity  made  the 
Swede  boy  squirm  in  his  seat.  But  he  said 
nothing,  seemed  not  to  watch  the  bean-shoot- 
ing, and  bided  his  time. 

At  last,  interrupted  in  her  teaching  and 
goaded  to  the  point  of  rebuke,  the  little  girl 
dismissed  a  class  and,  rising  in  her  chair, 
called  the  school  to  attention.  **I  am  sorry  to 
have  to  speak  to  any  one  before  the  rest,''  she 
said,  her  face  white,  her  voice  almost  gone  with 
excitement;  **but  I  must  have  order."  She 
looked  straight  at  the  young  Pole. 

He  scraped  his  feet  and  smirked  at  her,  at  the 
same  time  flipping  a  bean  from  between  his 
thumb  and  finger.  It  struck  the  stove  with  a 
sharp  ring  that  brought  the  Swede  boy  to  his 


306    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

feet.  His  hand  was  raised  to  attract  her  at- 
tention.   She  nodded. 

The  Swede  boy  lowered  his  arm  very  slowly, 
looking  about  him  with  an  air  of  deprecation. 
*^Ay  doan  know/'  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  **eef 
yo  theenk  like  me.  Bote  she''— he  pointed  to 
the  little  girl— **komes,  takes  th'  skole,  lairns 
us.  We  bay  gote  to  pay  hair  back. ' '  He  shifted 
till  he  stood  over  the  young  Pole.  **So  eef 
somebodey  no  bay  gote,"  he  added,  with  a 
threatening  note  in  his  voice,  '*ay  make  harne/' 
Then  he  sank  to  his  seat  again,  having  for  the 
second  time  in  that  school-room  saved  her  from 
bitter  humiliation. 

The  next  morning  the  school-house  with- 
stood its  last  throe.  At  ten  o  'clock,  in  the  midst 
of  a  reading-lesson,  there  entered  the  young 
Pole's  father.  His  ox-gad  was  in  his  hand; 
he  did  not  remove  his  hat,  but  strode  forward 
to  the  teacher's  desk,  sputtering  broken  Eng- 
lish. When  he  came  near,  he  shook  his  empty 
fist  so  close  to  the  little  girl  that  she  caught  the 
scent  of  hay  on  it,  for  he  had  been  throwing 
down  feed  to  his  cattle. 

*  ^  No  touch  my  flesh  unt  blut, ' '  he  cried  sav- 
agely; ''no  touch  my  flesh  unt  blut." 

A  half-recumbent  figure  in  the  rear,  whose 
pale  eyes  rested  upon  her,  gave  the  little  girl 
courage.  *'No  one  has  been  touched,"  she 
replied.    *'But  if  the  school  is  made  noisy  by 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  307 

a  pupil,  then  that  pupil  will  be  punished,  or  will 
leave.  * ' 

The  Pole  raised  his  gad  with  a  grunt  of  rage. 
^'Ehr'  he  shouted,  cursing  in  his  own  tongue. 
He  flourished  his  arms  and  stamped  up  and 
down  wildly.  Of  a  sudden  he  saw  the  Swede 
boy,  who  had  come  forward  and  halted  beside 
the  table.  His  gaze  fell  before  the  pale,  half- 
shut  eyes,  his  voice  lowered,  and  he  ceased  to 
swing  his  whip  and  swear.  Then  he  hedged 
adroitly,  speaking  in  broken  English  again  and 
giving  quick  looks  at  the  Swede  boy's  huge,  red 
hands,  that  hung,  clenched  and  twitching,  on 
either  side  of  his  stalwart  person. 

^*I  hav-v  no  trouble  wid  you,''  he  said  to 
the  little  girl,  his  manner  changing  to  one  of 
apology,  *  *  bud  I  lick  my  boy  mineself , ' '  and  he 
moved  down  the  aisle  and  disappeared  through 
the  door. 

His  son  gazed  after  him  in  amazement  and 
disgust,  gave  a  sniff  of  contempt,  and  replied 
to  the  triumphant  look  on  the  little  girl's  face 
by  extracting  his  geography  and  going  to  work. 
He  played  his  pranks  no  more,  and  the  term 
passed  peaceably,  under  the  mental  guidance 
of  the  little  girl  and  the  physical  overlordship 
of  the  Swede  boy. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  school,  when 
her  pupils  had  said  their  good-bys  and  were 


308    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

straying  homeward  laden  with  their  books  and 
slates,  the  little  girl  stayed  behind.  And,  sit- 
ting in  the  very  place  to  which  in  former  years 
she  had  raised  reverent  eyes,  she  looked  round 
the  building,  every  crack  and  corner  of  which 
had  its  memory. 

On  the  bench  by  the  door,  close  beside  the 
leaky  water-bucket,  was  the  same  battered, 
greasy  basin  in  which  the  neighbor  woman's 
daughter  had  placed  a  horse-hair  one  day, 
stoutly  maintaining  that  in  due  time  the  hair 
would  miraculously  turn  into  a  worm. 

The  broken  pointer  reminded  her  of  a  certain 
fierce  encounter  when,  having  confided  to  one 
of  the  Dutchman's  seven  that  on  the  previous 
Sunday  the  farm-house  had  partaken  of  a  dish 
of  canned  frogs '  legs,  she  had  been  hailed  in  re- 
turn as  *  *  Miss  Chinaman, ' '  and  the  teacher  had 
closed  the  event  by  routing  her  tormentors. 

She  thought  of  the  morning  the  Dutch  chil- 
dren first  came  in  leather  shoes,  an  occasion 
recalled  by  the  pencil-marks  behind  the  chart, 
where  she  had  stood  her  punishment  for  too 
much  smiling. 

The  stove-poker  brought  back  the  terrible 
moment  she  had  dared  to  put  her  tongue 
against  it  in  the  icy  school-room,  and  had  had 
to  sit  with  the  iron  cleaving  to  her  until  the 
teacher  warmed  some  water. 

The  peg  above  the  coal-bins  reminded  her  of 


THE  LITTLE  TEACHER  309 

the  winter  day  when  she  took  down  the  well- 
rope  and  tied  it  to  the  faithful  Luff ree  's  collar, 
so  that,  with  his  keener,  finer  instinct  for  direc- 
tion, he  could  lead  teacher  and  pupils  through 
a  blizzard  to  the  safety  of  the  farm-house. 

She  was  suddenly  awakened  from  her  day- 
dreams by  the  sound  of  galloping.  A  horse- 
man was  approaching  from  the  direction  of  the 
farm-house,  and  she  hurried  to  the  door  to  see 
who  it  could  be.  As  he  came  near,  she  ran  out 
joyfully  to  meet  him.    It  was  the  colonePs  son. 

*^They  told  me  you  were  here,''  he  cried, 
springing  from  his  saddle.  She  could  scarcely 
answer  him  for  sheer  happiness,  and  when  he 
brought  out  her  mount  and  they  started  away 
through  the  twilight,  he  leading  the  horses,  she 
walked  beside  him  silently. 

He  told  her  about  his  trip,  his  months  at  the 
preparatory  school,  his  new  friends,  the  won- 
ders of  the  big  city  in  which  he  had  been  living, 
hardly  taking  a  breath  in  his  excitement  as  his 
narrative  swept  along.  Suddenly  he  became 
quiet  and  bent  toward  her  anxiously,  peni- 
tently. 

^^Go  on,''  she  urged;  *4t  's  fine!" 

^  *  But  I  've  forgotten  to  ask  you  how  you  've 
been  and  what  you  've  been  doing.  Or  whether 
—next  year—  Of  course  I  wish  awfully  that 
you  could—" 

He  faltered,  stopped.    Then,  after  a  moment. 


310    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

^'But  you  're  as  brave  as  can  be  to  just  go 
right  on  at  this  school  and  let  your  teacher  help 
you  all  she  can.  It  '11  all  count,  you  '11  find, 
when  you  start  in  studying  some  place  else." 

She  laughed  merrily.  ^  ^  You  have  n  't  heard, ' ' 
she  said.  Even  in  the  dusk  he  could  see  that  her 
face  was  beaming. 

''Heard  what?"  he  asked. 

''That  I  've  been  going  to  school,  but— not 
in  the  way  you  think." 

He  halted  in  the  road.  "What  do  you 
mean  ? ' ' 

"I  've  been  teaching." 

It  was  a  long  way  from  the  school  to  the  farm- 
house, yet  the  colonel's  son  and  the  little  girl 
had  so  much  to  tell  each  other  that  they  were 
not  done  even  when  the  lane  was  reached.  So 
they  paused  in  its  gloom,  under  the  budding 
ash-boughs.  A  red-breasted  thrush,  just  re- 
turned to  his  old  haunts,  twittered  inquiringly 
at  them  from  a  twig  above,  and  the  horses 
nickered  and  champed  on  their  bits.  But  they 
heard  only  each  other  until,  having  lighted  the 
lamp  in  the  sitting-room,  the  biggest  brother 
strolled  toward  them,  singing  a  gay  love-song. 


TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN 

THE  big  brothers  sat  in  a  sullen  circle  about 
the  sitting-room  table,  the  eldest  smoking, 
the  biggest  studying  his  fingers,  the  young- 
est whittling  jackstraws.  Near,  silent  and 
troubled,  hovered  the  little  girl,  watching  the 
three  who,  like  the  Fates  themselves,  seemed  to 
be  settling  her  destiny. 

**So  you  don't  want  her  to  go,''  said  the 
biggest,  taking  up  the  discussion  where  it  had 
been  dropped  a  few  moments  before ;  * '  though 
you  know  it  was  mother's  last  wish,  an'  that 
the  youngster  's  always  wanted  it.  Well,  your 
reasons;  let  's  hear  'em  again  from  first  to 
last." 

**What  '11  she  do  with  all  this  eddication 
she  's  hankerin'  for?"  demanded  the  eldest, 
flashing  angry  eyes  around.    **Tell  me  that." 

**Huh!"  grunted  the  biggest,  and  he  threw 
back  his  head  with  a  hearty  laugh.  ^*Well! 
well!"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  could  speak; 
'Hhat  's  what  's  worrying  you,  is  it!  Jus'  let 
me  ask  you  something.    Did  you  ever  hear  of 

311 


312    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

anybody  in  your  life  that  had  an  eddication 
fastened  on  to  'em  an'  did  n't  know  what  t' 
do  with  it?  What  '11  she  do  with  it?  Wait 
till  she  's  got  it.  Then  she  an'  me  '11  sit  down 
an'  tell  you  a-a-all  about  it." 

There  was  a  note  of  ridicule  in  his  voice  that 
fired  the  eldest,  who  made  no  reply,  but  struck 
the  wooden  bowl  of  his  pipe  so  savagely  against 
his  boot-heel  that  it  split  and  fell  from  its  stem. 
Then  he  turned  upon  the  youngest  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand  that  commanded  an  opinion. 

**Yes,  what  've  you  got  to  say!"  inquired 
the  biggest,  also  turning. 

The  youngest  shrugged  his  shoulders.  **  You 
two  run  the  business  to  suit  yourselves,"  he 
said ;  *  *  I  wash  my  hands  of  it. ' '  He  began  an- 
other jackstraw  without  glancing  up. 

**That  's  good,"  said  the  biggest;  *Hhat 
counts  you  out."  He  tilted  his  chair  around 
until  he  faced  the  eldest.  *^I  'm  no  dog  in  the 
manger,"  he  continued;  ^*I  did  n't  have  a 
chance  to  learn  more  than  the  law  allows,  or 
to  go  to  a  city  school.  But  I  wanted  to,  bad 
enough.  That  's  why  I  know  how  she  feels." 
He  pointed  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
little  girl.  **I  'm  for  her  goin';  an',  whatever 
comes  of  it,  I  '11  stand  by  her.  Books  is  all  she 
wants— let  her  have  'em.  We  ain't  got  no 
right  to  hold  her  back." 

*'She  can  have  'em  here,"  interposed  the 
eldest. 


TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN  313 

**Yes,  along  with  work  that  's  too  hard  on 
her.  You  would  n't  think  of  puttin'  a  fine  ani- 
mal like  the  blue  mare  on  the  plow;  no,  of 
course  you  would  n't.  There  's  some  horses 
born  for  teamin'  an'  some  for  high-toned 
carriage  pullin'.  It  happens  in  this  case  we 
ain't  talkin'  about  a  draft  plug."  He  was 
trembling  in  his  earnestness.  After  a  pause 
he  went  on.  *^She  might  stay  here.  That  's 
right.  But  she  'd  never  have  a  cent  to  call  her 
own  'less  she  earned  it  teachin'.  Some  way  or 
other,  the  boys  in  a  family  always  think  they 
own  the  farm;  girls  ain't  got  no  share,  no  mat- 
ter how  hard  they  've  drudged  around  the  kit- 
chen or  the  garden,  or  even  in  the  fields.  They 
can  take  anything  that  's  given  'em  till  they 
marry ;  or  they  can  hang  around  an'  play  nurse- 
girl  an'  kitchen-girl  to  their  brothers'  wives." 

**I  've  always  noticed,"  broke  in  the  eldest, 
changing  his  ground,  and  ignoring  what  the 
biggest  said,  *  *  that  every  country  girl  who  goes 
to  town  polishes  herself  up  like  a  milk-pan  till 
she  's  worn  off  the  prairie  look,  an'  then  she 
marries  some  dude  with  a  head  like  an  addled 
egg." 

The  biggest  threw  the  little  girl  a  swift, 
roguish  glance.  **I  ain't  afraid  of  the  dude 
part  of  it,"  he  said;  *^I  'm  willin'  to  trust  her 
taste,  anyway.  I  don't  have  to  live  with  him; 
neither  do  you." 


314    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

*^Do  you  mean  to  say/'  asked  the  eldest,  giv- 
ing the  table  a  blow  with  his  fist,  *^that  you 
think  a  city  's  the  place  for  a  girl,  friends  or  no 
friends?  Nobody  's  goin'  to  look  after  her, 
when  she  leaves  here,  as  careful  as  we  do.'' 

*^The  bishop,"  suggested  the  little  girl,  ad- 
vancing almost  imploringly. 

' '  The  bishop ! ' '  sneered  the  youngest. 

* '  I  thought  you  washed  your  hands  of  this, ' ' 
reminded  the  biggest,  with  a  look  that  in- 
stantly quieted  the  youngest;  **I  guess  maybe 
you  did  n't  get  'em  clean.  At  any  rate,  you  'd 
better  jus'  make  jackstraws."  He  faced  the 
eldest  again. 

**I  say  the  city  's  no  place  for  her,"  the 
latter  continued  hotly.  He  pointed  through  the 
open  door  to  where,  above  the  ash-trees,  a 
hawk  was  pursuing  a  field-sparrow  that  vainly, 
by  sudden  dips  and  rises,  strove  to  escape  its 
enemy.  *^You  see  that?"  he  cried.  **Well,  in 
every  city  there  's  a  thousand  hawks  with  their 
claws  out  waiting  to  swoop  down  on  them  that 
don't  watch.  She  'd  better  not  go,  I  say. 
She  '11  be  safe  and  happy  here.  It  was  so  long 
since  mother  'd  seen  a  big  place  she  forgot  how 
it  is  there.  It  's  not  too  late  to  stop  gettin' 
ready.  You  'd  better  stay. ' '  He  stood  up  and 
whirled  about  upon  the  little  girl. 

The  biggest  brother  gave  a  dissenting  shake 
of  the  head.  *^She  '11  be  safe  enough,"  he 
said.    *'It  's  only  when  a  little  bird  gets  care- 


TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN  315 

less  that  the  hawk  gets  him.  What  do  you 
know  about  a  city,  anyhow  ? ' ' 

*^The  hardware  man  says—''  began  the  eld- 
est. 

The  biggest  cut  him  short.  '*  There  's  some 
people  in  this  world  that  can't  do  a  lick  of 
good,"  he  said,  *^but  they  can  do  any  amount 
of  mischief.  That  hardware  man  's  one  of 
'em." 

*^She  ain't  got  enough  money  to  last  her 
more  'n  six  months,"  the  eldest  asserted,  once 
more  changing  ground. 

*^I  've  got  what  I  've  just  made  teaching," 
said  the  little  girl. 

The  biggest  shook  a  warning  finger  at  her. 
*^I  'm  runnin'  this  parley-voo,"  he  laughed. 
Then  he  became  serious  again.  **She  's  got 
what  she  's  jus'  made  teachin',"  he  agreed. 
*^Well,  that  won't  last  her  long.  So-"  He 
hesitated,  arose,  and  began  to  walk  the  floor 
nervously.  *^ Course,"  he  faltered,  *^I  bought 
that  quarter-section  from  the  Swede.  But  I 
don't  need  it  more  'n  a  cat  needs  two  tails. 
Jus'  bought  it  to  be  a-doin'.  So— I  've  con- 
cluded to  call  the  bargain  off,  and  buy  some 
land  later  on.  The— the— youngster  can  have 
the  little  pile  I  've  got." 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  Then  the  little 
girl  put  out  her  arms,  and  the  biggest  brother 
drew  her  to  him.  '  ^  That  's  the  way  we  've  set- 
tled it, ' '  he  said.    His  voice  was  husky,  his  eyes 


316    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

overflowing.  *^I  want  to  help  her  get  away. 
An'— an'— Heaven  knows  how  I  am  going  to 
miss  her.  You  two  '11  not  feel  it  as  I  will. ' '  He 
buried  his  face  in  her  shoulder.  Finally  he 
spoke  again.  **Next  year,  when  her  money 
runs  out,  she  '11  have  my  share  of  the  crop  and 
herd;  an'  every  year  she  '11  have  my  share  till 
she  's  through  an'  ready  to  do  something  for 
herself.  Then  I  '11  buy  that  quarter-section. 
It  belongs  to  the  Swede  boy.  He  '11  keep 
it  to  sell  it  to  me  any  time  in  the  next  ten  years. 
He  says  so;  that  's  his  part  toward  helpin' 
her." 

*  *  Oh,  dear  old  brother, ' '  whispered  the  little 
girl,  *  *  thank  you !  thank  you ! ' '  She  was  dan- 
gerously near  to  tears  and  could  say  no  more. 

**We  've  decided,"  said  the  biggest,  **that 
we  might  as  well  get  this  thing  over.  So— so 
—she  's  goin'  to-day." 

**  To-day  I"  The  eldest  and  the  youngest 
almost  shouted  in  their  surprise. 

**Yes,  to-day,"  repeated  the  biggest.  ^^She  's 
goin'  to  do  a  little  studyin'  this  summer;  now, 
I  'm  goin'  to  hitch  up,"  he  added,  as  he  kissed 
the  little  girl  and  went  out. 

The  eldest  and  the  youngest  remained  beside 
the  table,  the  former  battling  with  disappoint- 
ment and  sorrow,  the  latter  suddenly  wrathful 
and  concerned.  As  they  sat  there,  the  little 
girl  packed  a  few  last  garments  into  a  leather 
satchel  and  put  on  her  hat  and  coat.    Then  she 


TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN  317 

climbed  the  stairs  to  the  attic  to  tell  the  low, 
bare  room  good-by. 

Ever  afterward,  when  she  thought  of  the 
farm-house,  it  was  the  attic  that  first  pictured 
itself  in  her  mind,  for  the  rooms  below  had  seen 
many  improvements  since  her  birth-night  over 
fifteen  years  before,  but  the  attic  had  remained 
unchanged.  Above  the  litter  of  barrels  and 
boxes  that  covered  the  western  half  of  the  floor, 
hung  the  Christmas  trimmings  in  their  little 
bag;  seeds  for  the  spring  planting,  each  kind 
done  up  separately;  strings  of  dried  peppers; 
rows  of  cob-corn,  suspended  by  the  shucks; 
slippery-elm,  sage,  and  boneset  in  paper  pack- 
ages; unused  powder-horns;  and  the  big  bro- 
thers '  steel  traps.  To  the  east  of  the  stovepipe 
were  their  beds,  covered  with  patchwork  quilts 
made  by  the  mother,  and  the  boxes  in  which 
they  kept  their  clothes  and  trinkets. 

The  little  girl  halted  sadly  beneath  the  slant- 
ing rafters  to  look  round.  When  she  finally 
turned  away  to  descend,  she  had  to  feel  her  way 
carefully,  though  the  morning  sun,  but  lately 
risen,  was  pouring  in  its  light. 

The  farewells  in  the  sitting-room  were  soon 
over.  With  many  a  promise  to  write,  with 
fond  pats  to  the  dogs  that  crowded  about  her 
hoping  she  would  take  them  on  her  drive,  with 
tender  kisses  on  the  pillows  of  the  old  canopied 
bed,  and  glances  behind,  she  went  out  into  the 
frosty  air  and  took  her  seat  in  the  buckboard. 


318    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 

Her  face  was  calm  and  her  eyes  were  dry  as 
they  drove  out  of  the  yard.  She  was  bravely 
fighting  down  her  grief  at  leaving,  and  she 
looked  back  again  and  again  to  wave  her  hand 
to  the  eldest  and  the  youngest,  who  were  stand- 
ing outside  the  kitchen,  swinging  their  hats  in 
tardily  repentant  and  approving  response. 

At  sight  of  the  carnelian  bluff,  she  suddenly 
sat  very  still,  and  a  pang  shot  through  her 
heart.  Looking  down  at  the  well-worn,  weed- 
bordered  road,  she  remembered  the  November 
morning  when,  with  even  deeper  sorrow,  she 
walked  behind  her  who  was  never  to  pass 
through  the  com  again. 

Opposite  the  bluff  the  biggest  brother 
stopped  the  buckboard  and  the  little  girl 
stepped  down,  crossed  the  half-thawed  drifts 
that  still  lay  on  the  western  slope,  and  went  up 
to  the  graves.  A  brisk  wind  was  blowing  over 
the  plains  and  shaking  the  scent  from  the  first 
wild  prairie-violets  that  dotted  the  new  grass. 

She  paused  but  a  moment  at  the  pipestone 
cross,  but  beside  the  other  grave  she  knelt  and 
looked  long  and  lovingly  at  the  white  head- 
board. The  chaplain  had  put  it  up  the  day 
after  the  funeral,  and  had  lettered  on  it  in 
black : 

MOTHER 
"  Blessed  are  the  pnre  in  heart." 


TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN  319 

A  few  minutes  later  she  joined  the  higgest 
brother,  and  the  buckboard  hurried  on.  She 
did  not  look  around  at  the  house  or  bluff  until 
the  highest  point  between  the  track  and  the 
farm  was  reached.  Then,  as  if  he  read  her 
wish,  the  biggest  brother  again  drew  rein. 

She  stood  up  to  look  back.  She  could  see  the 
herd,  peacefully  trailing  across  the  river  mea- 
dows in  search  of  green  feeding.  Beyond  lay 
the  awakening  fields  under  the  cold  sun,  the 
bluff,  the  house  shining  in  a  new  coat  of  red, 
the  board  barn  towering  over  the  low  sod  one 
at  its  back.  And  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
two  dark  figures  still  standing  against  the 
kitchen,  watching  her  out  of  sight.  She  did  not 
see  a  third,  whose  pale  eyes  were  so  dim  that  he 
in  turn  could  not  see  her  as  he  loitered  mourn- 
fully by  the  side  of  a  stack. 

**Good-by,"  she  said  softly;  ^*good-by.''  A 
sob  came  from  her  biggest  brother.  She  sank 
to  the  seat  and,  putting  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  clung  to  him,  weeping  aloud. 

As  they  drove  on,  he  manfully  strove  to  re- 
strain his  grief.  When  he  turned  east  at  the 
railroad,  he  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  and 
clucked  to  the  horse. 

**It  'd  be  a  lot  worse  if  you  had  to  stay," 
he  said.  *^  There  's  everything  before  you 
where  you  're  goin',  if  you  want  to  work 
for  it.    Here  there  's  nothing. ' ' 


320    BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  PRAIRIE  GIRL 


^ 


The  little  girl  lifted  her  head  from  his  shoul- 
der with  fresh  courage.  ^  ^  I  know  it, ' '  she  said. 
She  gave  him  a  grateful  smile,  and  turned  to^ 
look  back  once  more.  i| 

Suddenly  a  cry  parted  her  lips.  She  pointed' 
off  beyond  the  farm-house.  **See!''  she  ex- 
claimed, and  the  biggest  brother  brought  the 
horse  to  a  stand. 

Hanging  against  the  sky  was  a  spectral 
city  whose  buildings,  inverted  and  magnified, 
loomed  through  the  clear,  crisp  air  in  marble- 
like grandeur,  and  whose  spires,  keen-tipped 
and  transparent,  were  thrust  far  down  toward 
the  earth. 

Breathlessly  the  little  girl  watched  the  mi 
rage,  which  to  her  seemed  divine,  as  if  He  who 
sat  at  sunset  upon  the  throne  of  clouds  were 
showing  her  the  longed-for  city  of  her  dreams 
in  a  celestial  image,  high  and  white  and  beau- 
tiful. Joy  shone  on  her  face  at  the  wonderful 
thought ;  and  into  her  eyes  there  came  a  light  of 
comprehension,  of  determination,  and  of  endur- 
ing hope,— it  was  the  radiant  light  of  woman- 
hood. And  the  biggest  brother,  looking  proudly 
at  her,  knew  at  that  moment  that  she  was  no 
longer  a  little  girl. 


i 


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